《古书隐楼藏书》Vol. 14

The Celestial Immortal school (the line that cultivates to become celestial immortals) guarded a secret it would not pass outside its gates. My teacher received it from Master Zhang Wuwu, a lu (transmission-of-precepts) master in Daoism. Zhang Wuwu received it from Patriarch Bai of the Southern Lineage (Patriarch Bai Yuchan, founder of the Southern Lineage). Patriarch Bai received it from Patriarch Chen of Cuixu (Chen Nan). Chen received it from Patriarch Xue of Daoguang (Xue Daoguang). Xue received it from Patriarch Shi of Xinglin (Shi Tai). Shi received it from Patriarch Zhang of Ziyang (Zhang Boduan). Zhang received it from Patriarch Liu of Haichan (Liu Haichan). Liu received it from the two patriarchs Zhong and Lü (Zhongli Quan and Lü Dongbin). The two received them from Patriarch Shaoyang (the Donghua Emperor). Shaoyang received them from the Jinque Emperor. Jinque received them from Queen Mother of the West. The Queen Mother received them from Taishang (Taishang Laojun, the Supreme Old Lord). Taishang received them from the Taixuan Divine Mother. The Divine Mother gave birth to the Nine Heavens; she is the mother of the Primordial Heavenly Worthy (Yuanshi Tianzun).

This method is utterly simple. At first there were only seven characters: “qing, ji, ning, lian, ming, shen, yi” (clarity, stillness, concentration, refinement, illumination, spirit, unity). Generation after generation transmitted and elaborated them until they became nine precepts, yet they were always passed ear to mouth alone, never written down. When they reached Patriarch Wuwu, Niwan came to him, and only then did the patriarch put brush to paper and transmit them. What was written amounted to no more than thirty-six characters, with no fixed order to follow—so that outsiders could not steal the teaching and abuses could be cut off. After my teacher received them, he elaborated and fixed an order, and only then were there nine precepts.

Having received this transmission from my teacher, I first completed hundred-day foundation building (laying the bodily and mental groundwork in Neidan), then spent ten months bringing the inner elixir “fetus” to fullness (nurturing with warmth until the inner Golden Elixir child is complete), then practiced three years of “nursing” (continuing warm nurture as one would suckle an infant), and further preserved myself through ten years in “forgetting even forgetting” (where even the act of forgetting is forgotten). From the completion of the work until now, twenty-five more years have passed. Only when I transmitted the method outward did the heavy burden on my shoulders lift. I therefore appended my own observations to each of the nine precepts. I know full well that such disclosure goes too far, but seeing miscellaneous methods rampant in the world, some points had to be explained in detail. Relying on Heaven’s compassion, this material should still be weighed carefully before it is made public. For this book to circulate in the world, we must still wait; when one’s years pass four-eight (thirty-two) plus one more, there will probably be a time for it to spread. Be diligent and be cautious: first deliver yourself, then deliver others. Patriarch Bai said: those who encounter this method yet do not cultivate diligently will in the end become lower ghosts (failed cultivation falling into inferior ghostly destinies). How can one not strive? How can one not be cautious?

Lazy Cloud Master (Lanyunshi) writes: These nine sections, together with what is recorded in them, were personally transmitted by my master, Old Man of Great Void (Taixu Weng), and written down by me. This year is the wuyin year; the original manuscript is kept at Jinzhu Plain on Tianzhu Peak in Xuanggai Cave Heaven (one of the Daoist cave-heavens and blessed lands)—there lies Old Man of Great Void’s tomb, so the original was left there in hope that someone with the right affinity might find it. What follows I set down from memory while at Yuanpu (a place name). Recorded on the fourth day of the twelfth month, at a temporary workplace in Shan’an Lou. Lazy Cloud Master also appended this note.

Precepts and Taboos That Those Who Practice the Way of the Heavenly Immortal Must Know (what cultivators of the Heavenly Immortal Way ought to know about precepts and prohibitions)

Transmitted by Mud-Pill Master (Niwan Shi), narrated by Old Man of Great Void (Taixu Weng), compiled by Lazy Cloud Master (Lanyunshi), and collated by Return-to-Truth Master (Fanzhenzi).

First: On Precepts and Taboos That Must Be Known

“Being lost and not knowing where to stop” means that a person is caught in delusion and does not know where to halt or what counts as the ultimate goal. Mudan shi (a Daoist commentator whose name is linked to the “Mudan Palace” at the crown of the head) said: If one does not know where to stop, the will has no firm footing and the direction of pursuit becomes confused and unstable. Taixu Weng (a senior Daoist master) said: To study immortality one must study the celestial immortal (tianxian)—the highest grade among immortals—and that alone is the stopping point of the immortal path. When one knows that stopping place lies here, one will not be misled by the methods of earth immortals, water immortals, and the like, and one’s practice can become unified and pure.

The learning of the celestial immortal is the learning of heart-mind and inner nature (xing). Devoted cultivation of the heart-mind is what it means truly to know where to stop. The heart of the celestial immortal is subtly luminous, perfectly aware, real and constant—still yet capable of giving rise; so vast that nothing lies outside it, so fine that no gap remains within. In walking, halting, sitting, or lying down, whenever this aim is lost, one should at once turn inward and reflect. If awareness is even slightly slow, that is called “lost stopping”—something to guard against on the path of cultivation.

Understand this: my body is not merely this physical form alone; there is no place that is not the subtle presence of this heart, and all of it arises from subtle non-being (miao wu). When I gather each aspect back and return it to where it came from, the body becomes whole and stable and the heart begins to be complete. This is what Confucian teaching calls “receiving the whole and returning the whole”—the body fully received from one’s parents must also be fully preserved and returned. To understand and restore oneself in this way, the ancients called it “ lesser knowing where to stop” (xiao zhi zhi). For although such a scholar’s knowing and acting issue purely from the realm aligned with heavenly principle, one still relies on reflective awareness to reach unity; in the heart there remains a distinction between self and Dharma (teachings/methods).

If one can forget both self and Dharma together, moving from non-being into being and back, with the mind clear and constantly still, and takes that as one’s stopping point, the ancients still regarded this as the sort that liberates only oneself—among celestial immortals, a common rank—not yet the stopping point of the true celestial immortal.

The heart of the celestial immortal is such that sometimes one sees one’s body as the world, or the world as one’s body, or body and world as a single speck of dust; yet one can also hold within that speck countless worlds as many as the sands of the Ganges, and cause this body to appear before every world and before measureless sentient beings. One may raise the great Dharma banner (propagating the true teaching), now hidden, now visible, teaching, urging, and saving so that humans and non-humans alike reach the shore of the Dao (dedao)—yet the heart does not take this as merit. Whatever words and deeds issue forth seem not to be “I” speaking or “I” acting, but as if they come from the worlds presently contained within him: in each realm, each place, each being, it is each one’s own heart speaking and acting for itself—I do not intervene. Such a heart is truly real.

Through this cultivation, one is diligent yet does not cling or linger; the more one returns inward, the brighter one becomes; the more pure, the more subtle. The heart-mind of celestial immortals in the Great Canopy Heaven (Daluo tian—the highest heaven in Daoist cosmology) is just like this. To understand this and set one’s aspiration accordingly is called “supreme great knowing where to stop” (wushang da zhi zhi). What has been said above is the guiding principle of nature cultivation (xing gong) that supports refining life (lian ming). Life (ming) cannot stand without nature (xing); therefore these points are explained in detail first.

On the aim of refining life (cultivating the root of human life), the final goal is always the complete dissolution of yin and the full purity of yang; supernatural powers and soaring flight are not included. What is refined is jing, qi, and shen. I heard my teacher say: jing has pre-heaven jing and also post-heaven jing; shen and qi each likewise come in two kinds. The method of refinement also has its own fixed stopping formula (the key point of where to stop in practice).

Consider post-heaven jing: it has form and substance and looks like jing but is not true jing; it all comes from food and drink. Before it has passed through the Jiangong (Heart Palace) and turned into blood, it drifts through the limbs and the viscera. If you do not first refine it once at Haibu (the “sea bottom,” the lower Dantian), it cannot become ordinary qi; it cannot ride refined qi (qi finer and purer than ordinary breath) up to the brain and down to the heart to become fluid and blood and reach the kidneys; nor can it rise again to the navel for one round of harmonizing and then return with qi to Haibu for a great refinement there. Otherwise it surely cannot become refined qi—how then could it rise to the brain and turn into Jade Fluid (the refined, pure fluid produced in practice)?

Whoever refines this kind of formed, substantial jing without working in this sequence is deluded and does not know where to stop. Those who stop halfway before it has become Jade Fluid also cannot be said to know where stopping should be.

As for pre-heaven jing, that is true jing; yet its nature belongs to yin—it is transformed from the lung qi within oneself.

The method of refining runs as follows: Qi passes through the kidneys and the navel, descends to the lower “sea” (the qi sea where the lower dantian resides) to be cooked and refined once, then rises on its own to the navel region to harmonize once with earth (the spleen earth of the center). It then descends again, passes through the weilu (the gate at the base of the spine), rises to the crown, and gathers into a single mass. The qi of the celestial stem (the upright qi symbolized by the Northern Dipper) shines upon it from above the head; it immediately transforms into golden fluid and slowly drips downward into the crimson palace (the middle dantian where the heart resides). At first it is extremely cool and refreshing, and the viscera all feel clear; in a moment it turns into warm qi, which moves downward with a gentle heat until the whole body grows warm. When you feel this warm qi spread and diffuse, merging into the mysterious pass (the gate where qi enters and exits), there is a sense of swallowing and exhaling—this is clear proof of “nursing the infant” (warming and nurturing the immortal fetus formed by inner refinement).

People in the world who refine true essence but do not refine by this method are deluded and do not know where to stop. Even if they refine according to the oral formulas, if they have not reached the stage of merging into the mysterious pass, they still cannot be said to know where to stop.

Pre-heaven qi is yang fire, yet true nature belongs to yin; post-heaven qi is yin fire, yet the bodily nature belongs to yang. Pre-heaven qi need not be refined through exhausting labor—once one knows the nurturing formula, it can connect with the authentic qi of creation and be drawn without end. It arises from the kun palace (the kun position in the abdomen) and is formed when qian (heaven) responds to kun qi; therefore true nature is yin in quality. Post-heaven qi comes from the dui direction (the western dui position); it is dui taking and applying the qi of zhen (the eastern zhen trigram) to operate, so the nature of the body is yang in quality.

What is the nurturing formula? Purify my marrow and clarify my heart, like the hidden dragon—do not act rashly (from the Qian hexagram in the Book of Changes: the dragon stays hidden and does not move recklessly)—and simply nourish in stillness. What is the refining formula? On top of this nurturing method, add concentrated spirit and settled intent; use your own gaze to watch the “sea bottom” (the depths of the lower dantian) from time to time. Naturally, heat at the lower extreme will rise, like water boiling. In this way not only does ordinary qi turn into true qi, but ordinary fluids can also turn into ordinary qi.

Once Qi is refined, it becomes like clouds and mist: downward it guards the Mysterious Pass (xuanguan—the key aperture where inner qi opens and passes); upward it rises along the Jiaji (the gate at the mid-spine), and with True Qi (xian tian ben zhen zhi qi—the innate, original breath) spreading and filling, it ascends into the brain. Sometimes, favored by the power of Tian gang (the Northern Dipper stars), its radiance shines down and can merge directly with True Qi to form Jade Fluid (yu ye—the refined, pure fluid produced in practice)—how could one not rejoice? Drawing this Jade Fluid to irrigate the Red Palace (jiang gong—the heart’s dwelling) brings extraordinary coolness, as if the viscera were touched by spring; using it further to moisten the Earth Cauldron (tu fu—the vessel that holds the work in inner refinement), the Dantian (energy center) grows warm and supple, and below it passes through the Mysterious Pass so the Infant (the first trace of true yuan, likened to a newborn) is nourished and the whole body feels full and at ease. This is the stage at which one should stop in the first gate of qi refinement. To practice accordingly, the secret essentials are no more than this. Among those in the world who refine qi, whoever can follow these method instructions may be said to understand knowing when to stop (zhi zhi). Only when qi rises and falls in circulation, if there is blockage or stagnation—as if bound or held in a sack—or pain or itching, there is a separate set of stopping formulas.

Second on what must be known about prohibitions and taboos (jie ji xu zhi di er—matters of restraint one must understand, part two).

Niwan shi said: The meaning of this passage differs from the Xianxiu Bianhuo Lun (Discourse on Distinguishing Delusion in Immortal Cultivation). Here the weight falls on caution and taboos; there is no deeper instruction on practice methods—only the insistence that learning the Way values unbroken continuity and single-minded diligence. If practice stops and starts and the mind is not one-pointed, even receiving the authentic transmission is no different from never having heard it, and ghosts and spirits will also be displeased. That not only brings no benefit: the precepts of the Mystic Gate stand plain, and one cannot escape reckoning in the yin courts—how could one fail to fear and to guard oneself?

Taixu weng said: The saying that those who cultivate the Way are as many as hairs on an ox while those who attain are as rare as horns on a rabbit refers precisely to people like these. Otherwise, among those who have attained from antiquity to the present, those within my own hearing alone would fill volumes—why would there be any sigh over “rabbit horns”? The harm of interruption and lack of focus always comes from not understanding the principle of nature and life (xingming), and from being obstructed by craving and desire. Some cling to fixed opinions; some “understand” on their own and enter a wrong path; some cannot bear hardship; some set the Dao too high; some suspect it is too simple; some worry the master’s transmission is incomplete, or that fellow cultivators are not true seekers; some have old ailments flare up, or new ones arise; some see a person they honor die suddenly, or hear the outer paths’ fame spread wide; some advance too fast and fall ill, or practice recklessly and invite disaster; some are blocked by kin, or idle away time waiting for the “right moment.” Demonic hindrances and karmic conditions differ in detail, but the outcome—wasted cultivation—is the same. Truly lamentable.

Third caution in “What to Guard Against”

Before the work is truly finished at home, one already thinks it is enough. Niwan shi said: This is a chronic illness of Dao cultivators ancient and modern. Its root is not having genuinely heard the correct teaching, and lacking a clear master and true companions on the Way. Taixu weng said: That is why, in the passage on “knowing where to stop” (zhizhi), I already indicated the stage at which one should halt—to give such people a sharp wake-up call.

If the heart of lust and desire cannot be cut off, Niwani Shi said: as long as the lustful mind is not severed, no matter how hard one cultivates, it is like trying to cook rice by steaming sand—there is simply no possibility of success. Taixu Weng said: the lustful mind is born from the sea of love and desire. If one does not break the precept against lust, the fire of desire below the waist blazes fiercely, burns away the right path of cultivation, and one falls among water-born creatures—a harm that is no small matter. Moreover, in Neidan (internal alchemy—the Daoist practice of refining essence, qi, and spirit with the body as the furnace and cauldron), guarding the essence (Jing) is the first gate: when essence is depleted, qi is depleted; when qi is depleted, spirit (Shen) wanes; when spirit wanes, the true fire grows weak, the furnace and stove inevitably go cold, all kinds of yin devils take advantage and run wild, and when illness strikes, death is hard to avoid.

Some men of resolve cling to fixed views, holding that “among the three unfilial acts, having no heir is the greatest,” and that since they come from the Confucian tradition they cannot outright cut off their line. So they can only petition the Celestial Emperor and beg for a way out: if a man of resolve, when spirit is full and essence abundant, is willing first to be granted an heir so as to convert obstinate scholars who cling to old views, he may be allowed to seek a child once, or at most twice (one request, then a second)—in principle the answer should not fail, and the child born must be a boy. What matters most is that once pregnancy is achieved, one must at once break the precept and must not linger; those who break the precept are demoted to the human track and exiled into the pit of love and desire, to suffer every kind of retribution. My master thought this feasible, relayed it to Patriarch Lü (Lü Dongbin), and Lü assented; it was recorded and put into effect in the Three Heavens (the upper realms in Daoist cosmology), with an edict also sent down to the nine plains (Jiuyuan). But this is a secret teaching—those who know must not rashly disclose how this decree came to be, lest they invite slander.

Alas! Heaven and earth are themselves illusion; the myriad things are not truly real. Bodies succeeding one generation after another are only the work of habit-energy, karmic force, and conditioned causation—precisely a matter of suffering. People do not cease their lustful conduct and love it deeply; they say it is for continuing the family line, but that is only a pretext. Otherwise medical books already prove that those who are sparing in desire often have many children. What they call beautiful form is in fact not form at all—it is simply the fire of desire blazing and their inability to restrain themselves. The method of cutting it off lies in a single word, “fear,” which may bring some benefit. From forced restraint one moves to plain, natural sincerity; after three hundred days, the fire of desire is not easily strong again. Hence the ancients hung up a skull, took their own body for a rotting corpse, or hung sacred images, or held scripture and spells, or performed obeisance, or cultivated together in company—all to subdue this one thought. But it is better to settle the body in emptiness and gather the mind into nothingness, so that the six roots and six dusts (eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind, with their respective objects of form, sound, scent, taste, touch, and dharmas) have nowhere to land. Simply use Laozi’s “let the mind wander in the beginning” (you xin yu chu)—return the heart to its original suchness—as the sole method: how simple. May men of resolve in the world truly act on this one sentence; the elixir path will also be fulfilled the sooner, and nothing is more beneficial. The master said: Yes, it is exactly as you say.

Essential Admonitions on Taboos, Section Seven: Unless you root out stinginess and boasting about your own merit, you cannot speak of cultivating the Dao.

Niwan shi (a Daoist master cited in the text) said: If you do not remove miserliness and trumpeting your own achievements, the split between self and others grows very wide. That is precisely where cause and effect take hold. Records of merit and fault pile up ever thicker; retribution cannot be squared away; case after case of karmic reckoning stays unsettled, so liberation has no hope—and some people even turn into obstructive karma. From antiquity to the present, such cases are everywhere.

Taixu Weng (a senior figure named in the text) said: Know that giving relief and lifting people out of distress is simply what you owe as a human being. A lifetime of stinginess makes you miss chances to do good; even when you do give, if your heart still clings to it, that is “regret after the act”—merit grows thin. How regrettable. Once the thought of self-praise arises, arrogant, competitive qi runs wild; merit is not only cancelled but seeds of karma are planted. How frightening. That is why the master spoke so sharply above.

If you wish to cultivate the Dao, you must accumulate merit. In that work, apart from giving and austere discipline, where else would merit come from? Besides, occasions for good deeds slip away easily and are hard to regain. When one comes, act at once—that is benevolence (ren). Act without praising yourself—that is righteousness (yi). Endure insult and slander without regret—that is virtue (de). Bestow kindness and plant merit while leaving no trace in the mind—that is the Dao.

Alas! Heaven has given me the capacity and the opportunity to act—why still cling to stinginess and self-praise? In old times, those with resolve heard something and believed it; believing it, they surely acted. Today, those with resolve treat clever doubt as wisdom and minute scrutiny as brilliance, so though they mean to establish merit and virtue, in the end they accumulate none. They do not see that virtue and merit are one thing—the fullness of the innate conscience in the heart-nature alone.

So the ancients with resolve simply exhausted their own mind and strength: they heard and acted, never weighing whether the other party was sincere or false; merit therefore easily reached completion. If you say a matter is doubtful, nothing under heaven is free of doubt. Wait until you fully trust before acting, and you will never finish. Worse, those waiting for help may not wait: the dead are already dead, the ruined already ruined—how pitiful.

As for those who are stingy and self-praising, they are not worth discussing the Great Dao with. Even if they cultivate diligently, they remain trapped in the burrow of birth and death and become seeds of karmic debt. How could one fail to take warning!

Eighth Item on Precautions to Observe

This passage concerns the moment thoughts of gain and loss arise.

Niwan Shi (a Daoist adept) says: When we speak of thoughts of gain and loss arising, we mean that hardly anyone can faithfully keep the ancients’ intent without adding artificial contrivance of their own—and the harm they thereby bring upon themselves is beyond counting.

Taixu Weng (a senior in the Daoist tradition) says: Know that human nature is originally good and that Heavenly principle is originally complete within us. Speaking of “gain” and “loss” belongs to the language of worldly affairs. What we cultivate is the Dao. We cultivate because wandering thoughts obscure the mind and block our true nature; the three corpses and nine worms (parasitic spirits said to dwell in the body and lure one from the right path), together with the seven emotions and six desires, act in concert to injure the body—so we must cultivate and rectify, and only then can the body be at peace. What “cultivation” means is simply removing this obscuring of wandering thoughts. When delusion is gone, the true appears; when obstruction is gone, the mind is clear. This truth and this clarity were complete from the start and were never lost—so from what could we speak of “gaining” them? Once this is seen through, what gain or loss remains? To say there is any is really to say there is none; the mind need not move in vain. When the spirit is agitated and contends with itself, that is nothing but self-inflicted trouble.

My view is this: Remove one measure of desire, and the mind is one measure clearer; when desire is exhausted, the mind is wholly clear. Those who study the Dao should be sure to cast off desire and wandering thoughts so that the nature of the mind is bright—then they will naturally reach wonderously clear complete enlightenment (the originally possessed pure, luminous awakening of the heart-mind). If one does not trust this teaching but stays stuck in worry over gain and loss, I do not know how such a person will end—I can only leave them to their course. How can we not take this as a warning?

Ninth Item on Precautions to Observe

This is the title of the ninth precaution.

Mudan (Chen Nan, a Southern Song Daoist master who took the sobriquet Mudan) said: The human body inherently combines movement and stillness. What moves is Shen (spirit); what is still is Jing (essence). Qi may move or be still, entirely under Shen’s command. When the body is active, Shen drives Qi, Qi follows Shen, and together they carry Jing along; when one settles down, Shen settles Jing within Qi and leads Qi to rest in the qi-holes—the places where Qi is stored, such as the Dantian (energy center). Our innate luminous, perfectly awakened mind-nature has no movement or stillness to begin with—how could it come and go? How could the work done on mind-nature be broken up just because the body moves or stays still? Alas, people simply have not thought it through.

Taixu Weng said: The master’s words are truly precise. They express what earlier generations never said and compassionately guide those who come after. How could I fail to obey and record them in detail? The master taught that from antiquity, those who aspired to the Dao never wasted their effort in walking, standing, sitting, or lying down, and each posture had its own practical formula. Thus movement and stillness could remain unbroken, and through that one could realize the effects of the hundred-day foundation, the ten-month completion of the “embryo,” and the three-year nurturing—stages of Neidan (internal alchemy). What people now call “movement” is walking and standing: standing is stopping in place, walking is going on foot. What they call “stillness” is sitting and lying down. The formula for refinement is only one, but the places where one settles and cultivates are four. What is the one formula? It is ningshen—gathering and fixing the spirit (this single phrase already sums up libraries of alchemical manuals and firing methods). What are the four places? When walking, fix the spirit on the Yongquan points at the soles of both feet; when standing, on the “sea bottom” (the perineal region); when sitting in meditation, on the Jianggong (Heart Palace, the middle Dantian); when lying down, on the Kun belly (the lower abdomen). Sitting to answer someone or standing to converse, however, is not the same as sitting or standing alone. When sitting, first visualize: from the sea bottom, turn back and upward to reach the back.

Like the flame of light surrounding a Buddha image, when you meet and respond to others, the shen (spirit) should remain still. (According to one annotator’s modest view, one should also employ Qi—the congenital vital energy spoken of in Daoism: first send it toward one side in front of the guest, wrap a layer around their back, then draw it back up from the ground.) Speech should be harmonized and smooth. (This “wrapping” must be done extremely quickly: the moment you see the guest, with spiritual intent wrap around from behind them, coming up from the ground; at that moment this qi mechanism has already risen behind you—wrap toward the guest once more, shaped like an egg, with both you and the guest inside it. When you can do this, you need only use that segment of harmonious fullness in which the shen of the whole body is gathered and fixed—that is most subtle.) When standing, first place your spiritual intent in the soles of both feet, press down slightly with a firm tread, and at the same time answer with the mouth (this can also be done in seated practice); then the shen is stable and does not scatter outward. There are also two methods in sleep practice: one is Xiyi sleep, one is Huanyang sleep. Xiyi was the title bestowed on Patriarch Chen Tuan by an emperor; Huanyang is the name of Li Laojun of Maoshan, referring to Bazi Laojun—not the Laojun who is a manifestation of the Supreme Venerable. Each of the two sleep methods has its own refined point.

Xiyi sleep (the side-lying qi-nourishing sleep method transmitted by Chen Tuan): When lying on the left side, bend the left arm and rest the palm against the face, spreading the thumb and index finger so the left ear sits in the gap between them, leaving the ear canal open and unobstructed. Keep the back and waist straight, bend the left leg, and let the abdomen (the Kun belly—the lower belly) spread and settle comfortably on the bedding. An interlinear note in the text adds that the waist, belly, and right leg should each lie slightly angled to one side in a level, supine alignment so that qi in the dantian (the lower-abdominal seat of internal cultivation) can move freely. Extend the right leg and place it outside the left foot; another note says the right leg should stay somewhat open and level, without pressing on the kidney region, which is the correct arrangement. Rest the right palm on the qilun (the navel center) and fix the mind-spirit (shen) behind the navel. Contemplate the whole body as luminous as crystal, as if sleeping on still water with emptiness beneath; then contemplate body and bedding dissolving into a mass of white qi shaped like an egg, with yourself resting inside it. This is the method for the left side; the right side follows the same pattern.

If you practice Huanyang sleep (a supine nourishing sleep gong), do not sleep on your side. What you use to prop up the upper body should be higher and thicker than what props the lower body—roughly half a chi or three cun higher. Lie on your back with both hands in woguo (the Daoist fist grip used to gather the spirit), arms straight, laid out in a “ba” (eight) shape; the two thighs are likewise spread apart, with the inner sides of the legs each about one or two cun away from the shennang (scrotum). Close the mouth, shut the eyes, and let the heart settle—about ten-plus breaths (xi). In cunxiang (inner visualization), imagine a mass of yinyun qi—like clouds or mist—wrapping inside and outside the whole body; use intention to gather and hold it in the jianggong (the region where the heart resides). The key is “as if present, as if absent” (ruo cun ruo wang). When you practice this cunxiang, the chest will surely feel tight, or hot and stifling, almost unbearable. This is because the yinyun qi is warmed by heart fire and qi is about to turn into blood; then apply the method below, and blood can return to the kidneys.

With the eyes closed, secretly “illuminate” the chest, back, and the space beneath the bedding—as if bottomless. Then the warm blood splits into left and right streams behind the heart and in front of the spine, flowing into the waist and kidneys—this is the sign of blood transforming into jing (kidney essence). Do not fix the mind too hard; only look lightly and loosely. This “gu” (attending) is the “gu” in “caochi zhaogu” (holding and tending) in Xiuxian Bianhuo Lun (a work on discerning confusion in immortal cultivation). Its subtle meaning cannot be fully stated; it is broadly as described in the commentary. In essence: there are eight aspects to the work of generating blood and two to transforming essence. As for sleeping together with another person, there are nine secret points—but for fear of misleading later students and leading them into pangmen (improper paths), they are not recorded here.

On the first day of the tenth month in the Bingwu year of the Qianlong reign, Lazy Cloud (Lanyun) attended Old Master Great Emptiness (Taixu Weng) and listened as he expounded the Celestial Immortal’s Path: Treasure Precepts on the Course of Cultivation and the Celestial Immortal’s Path: Precepts and Taboos One Must Know, transmitted from Niwan lineage (Niwan shi). Celestial Immortals (Tianxian) are the highest rank of immortals in Daoism; the former text sets out the stages and standards of cultivating the Celestial Immortal path, while the latter sets out the precepts and prohibitions to be observed.

When they came to the section Between Movement and Stillness, Lazy Cloud’s heart was stirred. Old Master Great Emptiness was a divine being, an emanation deity of the Southern Sacred Mountain (Nanyue, Hengshan). On his left palm was a pattern forming the four characters “Ruler of Great Emptiness” (Zhuzai Taixu); the script was close to seal style yet lively and fluid, with a soaring, coiling momentum, in pure red. It only appeared when he had his hands washed for him at the end of his life, hence his style-name Taixu.

Lazy Cloud then earnestly requested that what had been taught be written into a book to deliver those in the world who had affinity. Old Master Great Emptiness said: “You may. With you holding the brush, what would I withhold? North and south of the Great River it will circulate. Still, the right moment must wait.” He then rose and recited: “In the imperial reign, three-six; Yue again two-three. North of the Divine River, south of Lou Gong’s worksite. A humble rustic, barefoot disciple and heir. There shall be transmission; the oral formula begins to flow.” The gist was to hint in veiled language at the year, the place, and that a lowly barefoot junior would receive the transmission, after which the secret oral instructions would begin to spread.

After the recitation he added: “To obtain it is not hard, and many will hear of it. Only each person’s root capacity and native endowment differ, so the path cultivated naturally diverges, and the realm realized is not the same. Those who read this book are all members of our lineage; I hope none will abandon themselves.”

He went on: “My master came yesterday and said I am to answer the Sovereign Lord’s (Dijun) summons; the day of departure is already set.” “The Lord’s summons” is the Daoist way of speaking of leaving the world and ascending as an immortal. He then rose and recited: “Seventy-nine years in the world, the years not idly spent; gladly completing one’s true original face, spirit and consciousness attested in the heaven of Great Emptiness (Taixu).”

When he finished, he handed over brush and paper and said: “Record!” They began with the Treasure Precepts on the Course and copied them in order, neatly and correctly. By the time they reached Between Movement and Stillness, it was already the fifteenth of that month. Old Master Great Emptiness said: “Why not arrange the lines recited on the first into a separate entry and append it after this section, so that at the first transmission to fellow practitioners it can verify karmic affinity?”

Lazy Cloud rose to compile it and presented the draft. Old Master Great Emptiness said: “Good.” He also said: “Continue writing for me.” The continuation read: “What I have expounded is nowhere recorded in detail in other books. Those who receive it must not treat it lightly. To receive yet not practice, to practice yet not diligently, to be diligent yet not enduring—all this is called treating it lightly, and one will not attain the Dao in a lifetime. On such-and-such a day (in the base text, the fifteenth day of the tenth month, Bingwu year of Qianlong), Tranquil Poverty Master (Danbo Zhuren) Old Master Great Emptiness enjoined; recorded by Lazy Cloud.” Tranquil Poverty was his study name—the Tranquil Poverty Realm (Danbo Jing) at Kaihua Temple in She Village, Gui’an County—and also the place where Old Master Great Emptiness ascended (yuhua, the cultivator’s departure and immortal transformation).

Alas! Eleven days later, Old Master Great Emptiness indeed passed from the world. In the Wuyin year, Lazy Cloud traveled and lodged at Lou Gong’s construction site, gained insight, took out this record, and waited to bestow it on those with affinity, and at the end of this passage added a few more lines of note.

Taboos That Must Be Heard, Section Ten

“Acting without regard for human norms.”

Master Niwan said: What is meant by “acting without regard for human norms” is not the person of resolve who keeps to his proper place, but the curious sort who seek only the strange and outlandish. Calamities decreed by rulers on earth they may sometimes slip past, but the law of Heaven will surely not spare them. Hence the precepts state that even a single lapse may be punished with three years of stagnation. That is because such temperaments love what is hidden and odd and refuse the middle way—the harm they spread is extreme—so the penalty is severe and without mercy. How can one fail to take warning?

Master Taixu said: What my teacher said is true and not empty. Ancient recluses lived in the world and lost count of the years; more than a thousand of them are clearly recorded in books. Today many of them blend back into the dust of the world: some become temple monks living on offerings in ruined monasteries, some keep company with beggars in rags. The finest hide their tracks on Emei, Jizu, Mount Hua (Taihua), Mount Lao (Laoshan), the Yellow Mountains, and other remotest places, sharing dens with wolves; they sit cross-legged (fuju) through hundreds of seasons until fallen leaves cover their bodies and thorns block the path—they fear nothing so much as being known. These were great adepts of the Han, Wei, Six Dynasties, and through Tang, Song, Yuan, and Ming. Those who once showed their wonder-working most often find their penal stagnation beyond counting in years. I know this for fact and have seen it myself, yet I cannot bear to give their names. I fear that aspirants in the world will be misled, take the wrong path, and hurt themselves deeply—so I speak plainly despite my reluctance. Men of resolve must take heed: never “act without regard for human norms.”

At that moment Master Hailiu stood by in attendance and asked: Supernatural powers and methods were, after all, what world-residing perfected persons (zhu shi zhenren—those who remain in the world after attainment) used to accumulate merit and good deeds; the records are full of detail. Why does the Master forbid them? Is what the books say not fully trustworthy, or is there a deeper meaning, so that you reject them so strongly?

Master Taixu said: You are still confused—not really fit for this talk; yet if it is not made clear, later generations will be harmed. Have you ever seen an egg turn into a chick? He answered: I have.

Someone asked: Have you ever seen one break out of the shell before the body is fully formed? The answer: No.

The transformation of an egg follows its own law; taking shape through transformation has its own principle; after the form is complete, breaking the shell has its own moment. Never has change happened before its time, or a form been complete before transformation was finished. If the shell is broken while the time is not yet ripe and the body is not yet solid—if one forces it out by strength: what has not yet been nourished and has not yet taken shape will die; what has already taken shape but is not yet solid will be weak; what is already solid but whose time has not come will fall ill. What I said before referred only to those already formed and fairly solid, with nothing lacking but the right moment—so the harm was no worse than that, yet they were already seriously ill.

Alas! A chick is merely an ordinary creature: from nothing it becomes something; rearing it until the form is complete means the work is already done. Whether the shell breaks by heaven’s timing or by human force, the difference in benefit and harm is so great.

As for our Way, it is the way of immortality: from having, refining back to non-being; from solidity, refining back to empty spirit; parting from deluded thoughts and returning to true nature; gathering in desires and returning to original character; refining away yin substance until yang spirit is achieved. The various methods of practice neither discard the physical body nor cling to the physical body. Lively and natural, wholly still and silent, as if present and yet not—pure and unmixed. One no longer sees the five viscera and six bowels as merely the five viscera and six bowels, nor the four limbs and hundred parts as merely limbs and parts. Before the eyes there is only a round, radiant vision. At first appears the water-moon realm (like the moon in water—empty, bright, and clear); next appears the golden-sand world (a realm of light and solidity); finally one attains the red-purple pure realm (the pure yang, purified state). Suddenly that vision shrinks, small as a grain of rice or millet, and with authentic mind (zhenyi) one draws it into the Mysterious Pass (xuanguan—the place in inner practice where authentic mind holds and qi converges), like a magnet pulling iron, penetrating into the Mysterious Embryo (the vessel in which primordial spirit dwells). This is the subtle use of settling the spirit-nature and entering the sacred realm: not borrowing the slightest trace of external qi, nor letting a particle of ordinary, untrained jing, qi, or shen from within the body mix in.

When the Pass of Mystery (Xuan Guan—the place in internal alchemy where qi first begins to open) has only just opened, if one also mixes in practice of secret methods meant to display supernatural feats, the Sacred Embryo (Sheng Tai) has not yet solidified and True Qi (Zhen Qi, pre-heaven vital breath) is still very weak. The True Spirit (Zhen Ling) may already be there, but worldly veils remain thick and inner light is scarce. What people call the secret lineages of “showing wonders” are paths in which the True Spirit leads the Conscious Spirit (Shi Shen, post-heaven mind), commanding one’s ordinary qi to go outward and join the killing and life-giving currents of Celestial Gang (Tian Gang, the Big Dipper gang qi) in order to act. Their apparent power comes from borrowing the command of the Heavenly Emperor, so that the qi of heaven and earth seem to gather in response. Yet what actually gathers is none other than the Six Heaven Demon Kings: outwardly they obey the imperial decree and assemble demonic qi as ordered. Many among them are spirits who fear the true Way and play at submission while their hearts are not upright; once summoned, they still do as they are told. For that reason, when such techniques are performed, signs of efficacy almost always appear.

Understand this: practitioners who do this have impure skill, insufficient True Qi, a True Spirit still frail, a character not yet fully rounded, and delusive thoughts still strong—only then do they train in such reckless ways. It is the delusion of wanting to win and be famous, craving marvels, and rushing for quick results. The demon spirits see this clearly, entice the inner demons, and settle into the body in collusion. Those who learn the art often do not realize that their hearts are already under demonic influence; from then on they act without restraint. The more extraordinary the techniques become, the more they declare that their earlier correct cultivation was all wrong—thus harming themselves and misleading others, which is the inevitable outcome.

If one’s roots in the Dao are deep, and a true master (Zhi Ren) rouses them so they return to the authentic Way and cultivate with vigor, they may still complete the embryo and bring it forth. Yet at the stage of shattering the ultimate (Fensui Liaodang—the final gate of release from birth and death), they may be unable to pass through for centuries or millennia. Past reckless karma, piled like mountains and seas, must be exhausted and offenses forgiven before the heavenly edict arrives and that gate opens. How can one fail to take warning?

Hai Liu should understand: when internal cultivation reaches completion, merit and practice are naturally full, and the person breathes in the same rhythm as the Creator—the source of all things. When a thought stirs, spirit responds at once; when spirit settles, qi guards and supports it, like the heart commanding the fingers—every finger obeys. Is such capacity, which arises naturally from inner work, not already vast? Why rely on external methods and techniques? What keeps people from connecting with spirit and from full penetration is nothing but ordinary desires and stray thoughts. Wash away those ordinary feelings and ideas, gather yourself in single-pointed focus, and return to your original true nature—then this capacity is there of itself. Master Hai Liu was delighted, and Lazy Cloud (Min Yide) therefore set it down in writing.

Speaking of precepts and discipline—likewise, why depend on external techniques? What blocks this capacity is still ordinary emotion and wandering mind; once those are cleared and you return to the true root, the capacity comes on its own. Master Hai Liu was pleased, and Lazy Cloud recorded it in the book.

“Precepts and Taboos One Must Know, Section Eleven”—that is, the eleventh section on what one must understand regarding holding precepts and avoiding what is forbidden.

Those who sink into ease and idleness. Niwan Shi (a commentator in the text) said: Those who drown themselves in comfort are not people of resolute will, and they fall short even of those who can liberate themselves—they are pitiable. Even if a sage appeared again, it would be hard to drive them onto the Great Way. Their whole person is pure yin (entirely yin in constitution, lacking yang); some are beyond refining no matter how they try. Alas, what more can I say?

Taixu Weng (another commentator) said: How compassionate! The master seems to disdain teaching them, yet in that very attitude he is teaching them deeply. These people whose nature loves stillness are afflicted with laziness: they seem to understand, yet do not; they seem content, yet are not. They are a type of limited talent, mixed among those in the Mysterious Gate (the door of Daoist cultivation), and their striving is bitter indeed. The master pities them in his heart, and therefore uses the stick and shout (sudden, sharp awakening) to rouse them. In the world, those who shut themselves into deadwood round halls (stillness cells where one sits like withered wood)—such people are everywhere.

I hold that they simply do not grasp the essentials of cultivation. If one can remain amid vexations yet keep the mood of ease, and at every moment examine gain and loss, that person is a great virtuous friend (one of genuine attainment). As days pass and people come to know his regimen, he moves again to a place where no one knows him, to test whether that ease holds or slips; inwardly he restrains and nourishes himself, alternating ease with diligence. Who will say this is not the broad road to becoming a celestial immortal (one who ascends to the heavens as an immortal)?

Why? Once you have entered the Mysterious Gate, do not waste your days. If you only mean to spend your life in a tranquil spot, I am sure you will end your hundreds of rebirths in just that way—and you will never securely obtain even that ease you crave. That is precisely what the master’s stick and shout are aimed at.

Alas! Without such talent and without such strength, yet forcing yourself to intense diligence, illness is sure to follow. Better to place each person according to his endowment, in a setting suited to shaping him. Birds and swans differ in nature; each has its own secret of what training it can bear. People are not born for nothing; such persons can still attain the Way—do not give up on yourself. This is my admonition.

“Regulations and Taboos—What Must Be Known,” section twelve.

On whether one can set a fixed deadline for success in cultivation

Niwan Shi said: The idea that practice can be scheduled to a set date and must succeed when that date comes is one person’s view, not a rule that holds for everyone. Endowment differs from person to person, and dullness and sharpness are not the same. If you insist on a deadline to measure results, something will almost always go wrong because of it.

Taixu Weng said: Yes. The master’s words hit the mark. It is like drinking water or soup—only you know whether it is hot or cold. A teacher cannot fix a deadline for a disciple, nor a father for a son, precisely because endowment varies and wisdom and dullness are not one and the same. If the method is right, even before the day you named, it may already be enough; if the method is wrong, even after the deadline you cannot simply stop halfway. What people call “seven” and “nine” are names for stages of age, not cut-off dates for finishing the work. What they call “a hundred days,” “ten months,” or “three years” means to keep at it without slackening. “Thirty-six turns to the left, thirty-six to the right” is talk in the vein of matched, equal halves—the kind of paired numbers people use in figures of speech. By the same logic, none of this should be grasped in a stiff, literal way.

Think of walking a road: using a bow or pacing to reckon distance is how custom does it; the one who walks simply walks until he gets there, with arrival as the only point that matters. Why grab a passerby and check how many steps he has taken? Stride length differs, so the count will differ; to measure the journey by counting steps is to be misled. The way of the celestial immortals is alive and unfixed; it is not something people who cling to appearances and freeze the written word can discuss together.

Abstinences and taboos one must know—thirteenth section: This is the thirteenth item on what to refrain from and what to avoid in practice.

The boundary between purity and defilement is something people draw for themselves. Niwan shi said: purity and defilement depend only on the mind; outward circumstances have nothing to do with it. People in the world who aspire to cultivate the Dao, yet stall in their practice because they are confused about this, are everywhere—truly laughable. Taixu Weng said: these words are excellent. That purity and defilement are in the mind and unrelated to circumstances is a fixed principle that cannot be overturned. When people are bound by outer conditions and fence themselves in, it is because they cling blindly to old formulas.

The various practices said to distinguish pure from defile, or to ward off defilement, mean precisely this: when you wash your face, wash the heart along with it; when you burn incense, refine temperament along with it. Sadly, some discard mourning rites and shun graveyards, thinking that scriptures say one must avoid contact with corpses for forty-nine days or one will never attain the Dao. They do not know that this saying comes from the liturgical and recitation branch of the Dao (the gate that emphasizes ritual and scripture)—and was originally an indirect rebuke of yinyang masters who live by conducting funerals and burials: such people sleep and eat amid death; inside and out they are full of dead qi, and truly have no possibility of realizing the Dao.

Yet if yinyang masters in the world can sincerely recite the Taixuan Yujing, and chant it daily while holding it in mind, then not only do they themselves become pure, but wherever they pass they can transform defilement, and wherever they stay they can preserve shen (spirit); accumulating merit in this way, what could surpass it? This is what is called xià jié guǐ yuán—forming a wholesome bond with the dead while still among the living—which is also a support on the path to attestation of the Dao. Moreover, if in the heart one originally has no revolving in birth and death, then even birth and death are absent—how could there still be pure and defile?

Only the liturgical and recitation branch properly demands inner and outer refinement; the slightest slackness fails to show reverence, hence incense, offerings, bathing, and changing clothes. The cultivation branch, by contrast, is simply the celestial immortal great path of pure unity and holding to oneness—silent, vast, without trace; it was never subject to worry about contact with the inauspicious or defiled, so what is there to taboo?

If one has not yet attained this Dao and the heart is already moved by death and mourning, the instruction is to step back and recite the Taixuan Yujing, visualizing and releasing compassionate light like the moon or sun, shining upon Jinting (the golden inner court, a sacred place in the inner landscape). Then even if one is affected, there is no harm. One must never invent excuses and draw a circle one cannot leave, insisting on waiting until the full forty-nine days before paying condolences and thus abandoning major rites; nor must one cut off progress in cultivation because one goes to mourn. This is the compassionate intent with which my master set forth this passage to instruct people.

The fourteenth section discusses “ni gu lü jin”—clinging to ancient ways and using them to judge and constrain people today.

Niwanshi (a title used in the text for one who discourses on the Dao) said: Times have changed and the world has changed with them; this is the work of qi-yun (the shifting pattern of cosmic influence and historical fortune). Those who cling to antiquity to constrain the present only know how to honor the old, yet they take it in without digesting it. On this point one must not fail to be on guard.

Taixuweng (a title used in the text for another who discourses on the Dao) said: Yes. Ancient methods can no longer be carried out in the world; this has been so for a long time. Consider the transmission of the Dao (the Way): in some situations it is no longer possible to follow the old methods, and few understand this. In former times someone in a certain place transmitted a certain line to someone else; the yili (ritual forms and propriety) were not fully in place, yet giving and receiving were already complete. Someone stood up to rebuke them: this Dao came from a certain patriarch and was received from a certain master, with ritual so solemn; to transmit it now in this way—so brief, so slight—can that be allowed? The person involved wished to explain but could not make it clear, and to this day it is still held against them. Alas—the rebuker had a point, yet how could he know that past and present are no longer the same? The scripture says: “Li yun li yun, yu bo yun hu zai” (Is ritual merely jade and silk?). The sages of old valued ceremonial form mainly to see whether the one receiving the Dao was sincere. Today it is otherwise: if transmission is decided by ritual observance, that invites suspicion from many, and some will slander the Dao because of those observances. Clearly, the one who completed transmission without insisting on observance was honoring the Dao, not slighting it. Seen in this light, clinging to antiquity to constrain the present is indeed something one must guard against. Alas! There are many such people under heaven; the antiquity they cling to they have not truly understood; on close examination, most are only borrowing old forms to bind the present—their motives and conduct are even less fit to be pursued.

The fifteenth section is titled “Essential Taboos and Precautions to Observe.”

Mudan Shi (the honorific title of inner alchemists) said: Those who can reverse and master the three—body, mind, and intent—are immortals; those who let the three chase one another and sacrifice themselves to that chase are ordinary people. Hence the precept of not indulging body, mind, and intent. Taixu Weng (a teacher who expounded his master’s doctrine) said: The master’s words are truly profound. Body, mind, and intent may be called Qi, Jing, and Shen, or heaven, earth, and water, for the rationale is embedded therein: Jing arises from the mind, Shen belongs to intent, Qi is borne by the body—yet in fact all are presided over by this one mind. What is meant by reversing the three is using the mind to govern intent, intent to govern the body, the body to fix the will, the will to fix Shen, and Shen to fix Qi—each restraining and stabilizing the other until desire is exhausted, heavenly principle stands pure and unified, and one is single-minded without division; this is the immortal path. What is meant by the three sacrificing themselves to one another in indulgence is only the mind obeying intent at will, the body following intent as martyr, and intent again following the mind as martyr—each pursuing and indulging the other until desire flares and heavenly principle is extinguished, with myriad forms and appearances; this is the human path. Know that the way of the heavenly immortal takes “reversal” as its operation: heaven and earth each take their place—with earth above and heaven below the Tai hexagram (the image of heaven and earth in communication and peace) is formed. Beyond that, water and fire, wood and metal have the subtle use of mutual joining; water and earth also have the efficacy of harmonizing. Extended by analogy, nothing fails to employ reversal. This is precisely why my master admonished again and again.

Rules and Taboos to Know, Section Sixteen: the sixteenth section, on precepts and taboos one should know.

If ritual and propriety are neglected and careless, that is unacceptable. Niwanshi said: This is precisely where outward bearing verifies the inner mind—it is where the practice of “holding reverence and preserving sincerity” shows inside and out; how can it be treated lightly? Those who aspire to the Way who fall into this fault will surely sink into demonic paths—is that not something to guard against? In truth they simply have not understood what is meant by “excessive deference” (zu gong—overdone courtesy verging on flattery). Taixuweng said: Those who break this precept are mostly people who seem penetrating but are not truly so. In past cultivation their merit was insufficient; they had only a little talent and intelligence, and so fell on hard times and were rarely recognized. They were respectful toward others, but others did not respond—or even mocked them—so gradually they greatly departed from their former words and conduct. Then someone who promotes such things praises them: “So-and-so has talent; even the ancient kuang-juan (those of lofty aspiration or uncompromising integrity) could not surpass him.” The ignorant in the world echo this, calling them able to detach, able to be plain and quiet, able to be aloof and high-minded—praising one another and reinforcing the image. When this reputation reaches the ears of obscure aspirants, they too are tainted from afar. This is why people in a decadent age treat neglect of ritual as preserving their true nature. Students of the Way should truly guard against this; otherwise they will surely fall into the demonic path of self-conceit (wo man)—how can that not be guarded against? One should only make inner and outer consistent and stop at what is fitting to one’s station. In a lofty position, ritual should be the “forgetting rank” kind (not relying on status, still treating others with respect); in a humble or junior place, one need only fulfill a disciple’s forms. Among equals, social forms need not be lost—what is appropriate is enough. Our Way is the great Way of celestial immortals (xiuxing cheng tian shang xian zhen); those who do not hide from people or flee the world cannot do without social intercourse and courtesy. When the bell is struck in the palace, the sound must be heard outside; do not let gentlemen from all quarters come because of what they heard and leave because of what they saw (drawn by reputation, driven away by breach of decorum). Moreover, in the celestial immortal tradition the fire timing (huohou—the grasp of advance and retreat in internal alchemy) is entrusted to walking, standing, sitting, and lying; how can that be rushed or treated lightly? When the time calls for sitting and talking, there are oral formulas for conducting oneself while talking at the side.

As you walk and talk, there is a distinct practice of walking while conversing; as you stand and talk, there is likewise a practice of standing while conversing. When others sit, you sit; when they rise, you rise; when they stand, you stand; when they walk, you walk. In every turn of encounter—in bowing and yielding—there are subtle keys. You may largely practice your own formulas of cultivation anytime and anywhere, refining your Qi (vital energy) and Jing (essence), and you may also examine closely whether your effort is steady or forced. How could one merely go through the motions of social courtesy on the outside, while inwardly lacking the wondrous work of cultivating oneself?

For this reason, the precepts observed by Celestial Immortals (those who have attained and dwell among the immortals in heaven) run to as many as three thousand eight hundred detailed rules. The quieter the mind, the more complete the harmony; without deliberate visualization, conduct naturally hits the mark. Only by recognizing this in daily life and putting it into practice will you not be wearied by elaborate ritual when you must meet the world.

Thus aspirants of old, at home, never abandoned the etiquette of sitting, standing, and walking—they used these very actions to cultivate the formulas embedded in them. Once they went out to handle affairs, whether serving superiors, mixing with peers, or facing subordinates, their bearing and ritual were naturally thorough, fitting both propriety and the inner method.

What is meant by “the great hermit dwells in court and market” (dà yǐn cháo shì—the greatest cultivation need not flee the world; it can be lived in palace and marketplace alike)? People today are otherwise: thinking that at home there is no fixed ritual, they let every joint and limb grow slack. They do not grasp that “the household has no constant form” (jiā wú cháng tǐ) refers to far more than morning and evening salutations to elders. Every ritual, great or small, should be recognized in these moments: how inner and outer are not two paths, so that ceremony is not mere surface ceremony—each act made one inside and out, without the fault of leaning to one side. That is why it is called “no constant ritual.”

When Confucius was at leisure, he was “easy and agreeable, yet composed” (shēn shēn rú, yāo yāo rú, as in the Analects)—precisely in leisure at home, applying this kind of recognizing subtlety. It can only be grasped in the mind, not fully put into words. Do not mistake leisure at home for slackness; to take natural, unforced reverence (zhǐ jìng—the mind resting in respect) as the real work—that is what matters.

In works such as the Book of Rites (Liji) we read words to this effect: when advancing, think of giving full loyalty; when withdrawing, let your bearing be easy, harmonious, and gently composed. That is to say, even in quiet living and settled repose, you should still inwardly grasp and put to use the subtle power of this cultivation. The point can only be taken to heart; it cannot be fully spelled out in language. Do not imagine that in quiet repose you may relax your guard even a little. To rest naturally in reverence—that is what counts. The classic also says, “When advancing, think of full loyalty; when withdrawing, think of making up for faults.” Is that only about public office? Gain and loss in affairs of state all turn on this one heart-mind. In walking, standing, sitting, and lying down, if you know the knack of settling heart and spirit, spirit stays with the body and does not fly off and pour itself elsewhere. Then, when you go out to serve and handle business, matters become clear of themselves, judgments in governance fit of themselves, responses are naturally harmonious, and advance and retreat are naturally correct. In all social exchange, everything falls into place: humility matches cautious care, reverence matches steady calm, yielding matches what is fitting, discernment matches thorough understanding, discussion matches free expression, conduct matches uprightness, and integrity matches sincerity.

Our way of the celestial immortal (tianxian): in want, cultivate yourself in solitude; in prominence, extend goodness to all under Heaven; in the world, be sage and worthy; in transcendence, become immortal or Buddha. From first to last, this is always the work of tuning this heart-mind. Even when influence spreads wide and transforms others, you do not cling to it or stop there—that is the learning of the celestial immortal. Who would say ritual propriety (li) may be slighted? If ritual is taken as empty form alone, it is hollow text; reverence on the outside and slackness within is slighting just the same. Take this deeply to heart—disciples, remember.

Preface to Er Lan Xinhua (Heart Talk of the Second Lazy One).

These two authors are unknown in origin, and their surnames are not recorded. Reading their inner words, one can tell they were practitioners of nourishing life who were about to devote themselves to the Southern Palace—the realm where immortals dwell and where refinement and cultivation take place. When I came upon their writings I copied them down, drawn to language that is plain yet deep in meaning, rough on the surface yet finely wrought within. Their intent seems to have a clear direction; they are not the sort who hide away in stubborn obscurity, and their aspirations match my own. I therefore removed what was unsound and kept what was straightforward, and gave the collection the title Er Lan Xin Hua (Heart Talk of the Two Lazy Ones)—because one styled himself Lazy Old Man and the other Great Lazy. The character lan (“lazy”) is written with xin (heart/mind), not nü (woman): it means to rely on the heart and learn accordingly—much like Master Lazy Su, who could apply himself on the level of the Heart of Heaven and the Heart of the Way (the original mind aligned with the Way of Heaven). On the fifteenth day of the eleventh month of the wuyin year of the Jiaqing reign (1818), Xiao Gen (Min Yizhi, who compiled this text) respectfully copied and wrote this preface.

Pingfeng: meeting like duckweed on water—an encounter by chance.

You live in the south and I in the north; we met for the first time this autumn, yet we felt as close as old friends of many years. Truly this was fate! Your master is Barefoot Li; mine is Master Taixu. It seemed we had no connection, but in fact our two masters had arranged things in secret so that we would meet. You have recently become acquainted with Master Chengbai of the north city. He is a disciple who received the dharma transmission from Shizhao Shanren (a Daoist of Mount Shizhao). You did not know this before. Chengbai’s patriarch Jin Huaihuai, whose surname was Wang and given name Qingchu, was also your patriarch. Thus your master Barefoot Li was a fellow student under my Shizhao Shanren. I too once studied under Jin Huaihuai, gaining that opportunity through my connection with Master Taixu. So we are brothers of the same gate: at first meeting we blended like milk and water; our lineage is the same, our practice one, and our aims naturally aligned.

What did Chengbai transmit to you? You said: what I heard was only how to recognize the single aperture of the Mysterious Pass (Xuanguan yiqiao)—the key locus where nature and life meet in Neidan (internal alchemy)—and the coupling of heart and kidney (xin and shen intersecting, when heart-fire and kidney-water unite). I said: whether that pass is open is not hard to tell; if it is not yet open, I do not see how you can achieve that coupling. You said: I would be glad to receive instruction. I said: we are one family—how could I treat you as an outsider? But today we are still like strangers adrift on the same stream; another day we can together parse the subtlety within.

On “Good Questions”

One day we met again at an old temple. Da Lan said: The ancients say “the pivot lies in the eyes” (qi ji zai mu)—I wish to probe its subtlety. Lazy Elder (Lan Weng) said gravely: Well asked. The whole body belongs to Yin; what can turn Yin back into Yang is the pair of eyes. This is the first oral formula for entering the Way. Now that you know it, use it henceforth for inward contemplation (neizhao); then everywhere you will accord with the Dao, and the Mysterious Pass may also be opened.

When someone asked where to begin with internal illumination (nei zhao)—closing the eyes and looking inward—the answer was: first shut the eyes and even out the breath for a while. When the breath feels steady, fix the spirit (shen) in the head with intention, and let the inner gaze turn slightly upward toward the crown. You may sense a faint brightness, like moonlight in a dark night. Then, with intention, lead that light to illuminate the Niwan (the upper dantian in the brain). When the head is full of light and feels as clear as crystal, that is the method of washing the marrow (xisui). After long practice, lead this radiance from the Chonglou (the throat) down to the Jianggong (the heart center), hold it there briefly, and when the Jianggong feels pure white, that is the method of washing the heart (xixin). Next, lead it with intention to the Zhonghuang (the body’s central region) and hold it the same way; when the Zhonghuang feels pure white, that is the method of the pure land (jingtu). The light will naturally follow the qi downward; you may then feel the lower field (the lower dantian) gradually widen and grow deeper—that is the method of stilling the sea (jinghai). At this stage of internal illumination, the longer you practice, the brighter it becomes and the wider and more expansive it feels. After more time, you may sense qi stirring in the abdomen—that is the dragon rising from the bottom of the sea. At that moment, with a thought of clear emptiness, gently use intention together with the inner gaze, turning from the “sea bottom” to look backward and inward. Before long you may feel light passing through the Weilü (the pass at the base of the spine)—that is the tiger overturning from beneath the water. As the light slowly ascends from below, that is the Yellow River flowing upward; when it penetrates all the way to the crown, that is the method of returning essence to nourish the brain (huanjing bunao). Then apply the method of coordinating head and tail: let the light of both eyes rest in mid-air above, like sun and moon shining down upon the crown, penetrating straight through the three passes (the gates along the spine from bottom to top) to the deepest “sea bottom”—that is the formula of the sacred sun and sacred moon illuminating the golden court (jinting). It may almost seem as if a round moon sinks in the sea bottom while a moon-wheel in mid-air mirrors it above and below—that is the formula of “water in the Yangtze, moon in the sky.” Now all sounds fall away into silence; use only one intention, ascending and penetrating downward at once, each not obstructing the other. Over time you may feel clear light piercing the nine heavens above and breaking through the nine abysses below, until you no longer feel you have a body at all. This is how one enters internal illumination. Alas—easy to say, hard to do. The questioner said: though I am not quick-witted, I am willing to cultivate according to these words.

Good at Doubt

One day, during a gathering, after everyone had left he came back and said: I went home to practice inner illumination (neizhao, inward contemplation of the self), and then continued with formlessness (wuxiang, not clinging to any image). Before long my mind grew clear and bright, and gradually I felt that the lower region suddenly seemed to vanish—boundless and fathomlessly deep. This appears only after long inward work, when the mind has stilled to the utmost. At the time I only felt the whole body suffused with harmonious equipoise (chonghe, balanced flow of qi); afterward I no longer held even that state in mind, and only felt as if the breath had ceased, while the lower region grew hot and surging. Just at the peak of heat, suddenly a few threads of cool qi either descended from the chest and belly, or flowed down from behind the viscera and in front of the spine, circling to and fro beside the male root (nangen), as though there were signs of leakage (zouxie, loss of essence). I feared it might not be the wondrous state (miaojing)—when in fact it was precisely the wondrous state—so I stopped midway (if one stops and does not go on to “add fire” and refine, harm follows), and came out to ask respectfully for instruction.

Lazy Elder (Lan Weng) said: Good—this is exactly the moment. To fear it is not the wondrous state (when it is precisely the wondrous state), and to stop midway (if one stops without adding fire to refine, there is fault)—then to come out and bow in earnest inquiry.

Lazy Old Man says: This question is well put. The lower yin essence spoken of here is the several threads of cool qi mentioned above as flowing down from four places; when it meets Qi (innate vital energy), it transforms. If true Qi lacks sufficient strength, transformation may occur yet it cannot be held in refinement—it will not grow hot—precisely because true Qi is weak, and true Qi is true fire—so it mixes with ordinary qi. Ordinary qi is ordinary fire; at this juncture that ordinary fire is minister fire (fire easily stirred by desire), and yin essence will turn into intercourse essence (essence that would leak through arousal and union).

The only remedy is to concentrate the spirit and gather Qi at the seabed (the lower dantian and perineum region), using the gaze of both eyes to drive and stir it, rotating like a millstone. The more tranquil the mind and the more the breath is held, the more true Qi can enter and remain in the lower region—this is the great secret of advancing yang fire. The lower region then heats like a boiling cauldron; yin essence turns into qi, rises with Qi from behind through the coccyx pass (weilü, the gate at the base of the spine) to the Mud Pill Palace (the upper dantian at the crown), and becomes true fluid—this is solid proof of returning essence to nourish the brain. True fluid descends, passes the Multi-storied Tower (the throat), and moistens the Crimson Palace (the heart region); this is post-heaven sweet dew, the substance used to form blood. It then spreads from behind the heart and in front of the spine to both kidneys; at that point the sweet dew has turned red and become blood.

Use the gaze of both eyes again to send it down to the kidneys, rotating separately left and right, spinning rapidly, until it heats like fire—this is refining blood back into essence; the heat then passes from both kidneys to the navel wheel (the navel center)—this is the oral formula for refining the ordinary back to the true and refining qi back into Qi. This heat must be several times greater than before—only then does this substance change from true essence into Qi.

After that one must not pause even briefly. The heat sinks again to the seabed, and one still performs the work of guarding and infusing—this is a crucial admonition. Then the yin essence mentioned earlier—which is always present and often abundant, and only disappears once the whole body is purely yang—can again turn into qi and rise. The knack of refining yin and returning yang is nothing beyond this. Effects can be seen at any time; once practice is broken they are hard to see, hence the warning against interruption. The essential point is long persistence. If the cycle never stops and one practices on schedule every day, why doubt that one cannot achieve what the former sages described—in a matter of months? That can certainly be attained.

Da Lan said: What you say is correct, and I am willing to follow it. However, I have heard that the method of “separating from behind the heart and descending into the two kidneys” is a cultivation formula for women. Women take blood as their root, so the mystical pass (the key gateway spoken of in internal alchemy) opens from the Crimson Palace (the chest region). The practice is to knead and massage between the two breasts; this spot is called the Breast Creek. After kneading hundreds or even thousands of times, the chest grows warm, one feels oppressed and short of breath, and a stiff, board-like sensation appears—only then does the blood-qi begin to flourish. One must use intention alone to withdraw it to the area behind the heart and in front of the spine, then send it separately into the two kidneys. If a man, like a woman, keeps descending from the heart straight down to the abdomen, there is the danger of “blood collapse” (runaway bleeding).

(This question arose because Da Lan’s mother was practicing internal cultivation; Lazy Elder had explained this to her on ordinary days, so the topic was raised again—it is an essential formula for women’s internal alchemy.)

So this effect is indeed as you describe. But what you are explaining now concerns qi: when qi rises to the brain and returns, transforming into fluid, that is already marvelous. Since it has already become fluid, what harm is there in letting it descend directly to the lower field (the lower Dantian)? Why must one, like a woman, first bring it down to the Crimson Palace, then withdraw it backward, pass through the two kidneys to the navel wheel (above the navel), and only then transform it into Qi? I do not yet understand this principle. Moreover, Qi and qi are originally one substance; in nature they both belong to fire, differing only in the names pre-heaven and post-heaven. After hearing your explanation, my doubts have only increased, and I cannot resolve them myself. I hope you will instruct me.

Lazy Old Man said: That is a good question—you truly know how to doubt and probe. What I am about to say is half from my teacher and half from books; here I will only outline the main idea.

The questioner said: I would like to hear its inner subtleties.

Lazy Old Man said: In men, yang resides in the abdomen; in women, yang resides in the back. That is an unchanging principle of heaven and earth in nature. The yin essence I speak of looks like jing (essence) but is not jing. It is the fluid humor formed from food and drink that has not yet become blood. When it stagnates among the hundred channels, it becomes something like phlegm. If it settles in the middle burner, it becomes retained fluid (water retention within the body). If it flows into the bladder, it becomes slippery discharge. In the gaps between the three hundred joints and in the eighty-four thousand fine pores throughout the body, this substance often lurks. External pathogenic influences enter through the openings and join with it to cause harm—the trouble is no small matter.

Now, because true Qi (pre-heaven primordial qi) warms the whole body, this fluid becomes active and flowing. It follows the qi, guards the qi, and is poured into the lower field (lower Dantian). Its nature is yin and cold, so when it circulates one feels only coolness. If it only accumulates and is not transformed, it will flare outward as fire—the “flowing fire” disorder people speak of is also this substance. Therefore when I sit in stillness, whenever true Qi circulates I feel a cool breeze passing out from within—the sign that it is being transformed and expelled. When it flows into the lower field, one must apply strong true fire to refine and smelt it—these are crucial secret instructions. Cool qi emerging from within is the effect of this substance being transformed.

When this kind of fluid is about to flow into the lower field—the lower dantian in the lower abdomen—one must apply true fire (the fire within the body used for refining) with full force to refine it. These are crucial oral instructions. After refining, it becomes like mist and vapor, rises along true Qi (innate vital energy) from behind the body to the crown of the head. Gathering and condensing, it turns into true fluid—like rain and dew—dripping from the nostrils to the corners of the mouth. This is what people ordinarily call sweet dew (ganlu). It then moistens the crimson palace (the region where the heart resides). At this stage one must hold and nourish it for a while with intention. When heart fire warms it once more, it transforms into blood. Then from behind the heart and in front of the spine it splits and descends into both kidneys; after one round of refining, it follows Qi into the navel center, and only after further great refining can it become Qi. This is the fixed order of qi transformation, the same for men and women.

Who does not eat and drink? Fluid produced from food and drink is generated every day. If one does not grasp the secret of refining it from the heart, few escape illness from it—hence nine out of ten people suffer from excess phlegm. Practitioners often worry about leakage. Ordinary people do not understand why; some blame stray thoughts, some blame failure of heart and kidneys to connect, some blame poor digestion—all miss the point. In fact it is because they do not know how to hold qi in the heart, so fluids flow everywhere, accumulate and turn to phlegm, and drain downward. If one forcibly blocks them, they may become external disorders and erupt as abscesses—here they transform again into fire and flare outward. The harms that follow are too many to count, which is why I explain this in detail.

As for so-called true essence (jing): grasped as a whole it seems to exist; reached for with the hand, nothing is there. Seminal essence from intercourse is still something formed by qi transformation, hence it has form and color; because it arises within the body, it can produce offspring. The fluid from food and drink comes from outside; without refining through the heart, blood has not yet formed—it merely resembles essence in appearance. How could it beget children? It was never a supreme treasure; if it leaks occasionally, what is there to regret? To grow depressed and restless over it—would that not be foolish?

Rather than relying on medicine to restrain and suppress [symptoms], it is better to refine according to the method I have described—this is what is meant by “removing the firewood from beneath the cauldron” (stripping the fuel from under the pot, a metaphor for solving a problem at its root). I explain this section again and again in detail because this one substance, though an ordinary thing, once refined by the proper method turns into yin qi; when it rises to the brain and then descends to the heart, it can become blood—at that point it is already a treasure; when it again descends to the kidneys and rises once more to the navel for refinement, and earth is obtained (earth in the Five Phases; in Neidan it denotes the harmonizing of the central palace), once harmonized it is no different from true Qi (xiantian zhenqi, prenatal vital energy) and becomes a supreme treasure.

Dalan (the disciple addressed in the text), the prenatal is yang and the postnatal is yin. Our cultivation is nothing other than refining yin to restore yang. The secret lies in nothing beyond: forgetting the body to nourish qi, forgetting qi to nourish spirit, forgetting spirit to nourish emptiness. One must reach the state of “forgetting,” because the gathered jing, qi, and shen must wholly belong to the prenatal before there is no harm. Moreover, what matters is that the body is constantly refined; what is used is simply fire (the refining fire of Neidan, applied through regulated breathing and intention). When fire is sufficient, [the work] flourishes; when fire wanes, it fails. If one cannot forget, one cannot gather; when one can forget, fire becomes ample. This is the most essential formula of true cultivation. Dalan understood and said: How could I fail to follow it completely?

Soon after, Dalan asked again: I have heard that the heart has three kinds—what does that mean? The reply was: Yes. [The passage repeats the fire/forgetting teaching, then continues:] When fire is sufficient, [the work] flourishes; when fire wanes, it fails; if one cannot forget, one cannot gather; when one can forget, fire becomes ample. This is the most essential formula of true cultivation. Dalan understood and said: How could I fail to follow it completely.

Before long, Dalian asked again: I have heard that the heart has three kinds—what does that mean? The reply was: Yes. What are called the Heavenly Heart (tianxin), Earthly Heart (dixin), and Human Heart (renxin) are in truth one. Do the classics not say: The heart is the treasury where spirit and clarity dwell, and the principles of change all proceed from it. The whole human body only moves and rests because it receives the heart’s qi, like a fish living in water. The ancients said: Every part of the body that is full and solid belongs to earth; what is empty belongs to heaven; the bending and stretching of the limbs, as well as speaking, seeing, and hearing, belong to the human. They also said: The Heavenly Heart resides in the brain, the Earthly Heart in the abdomen, and the Human Heart in the Jiangong (the heart center in the chest). The heart in the Jiangong, though a solid mass, is empty-spiritual and not muddled—it is precisely one thing containing all three. The hearts said to dwell in the brain and abdomen have no physical form; they are really this central heart shaped like a hanging lotus, whose spirit and qi (the subtle vital breath spoken of in inner cultivation) penetrate upward and flow downward in real presence—hence the saying that the three are one.

Lazy Elder said: Dalian, remember this. Yi (intention) is what the heart sends forth. The heart itself has no sound or smell; when a thought stirs and is sent out, it is called yi. Nian (thought) means “this present heart”—the heart of the moment. Yi means “the tone of the heart”—that the thought has already moved. What Buddhists call Guanyin (Avalokiteshvara)—this one sacred name is a great secret for cultivating body and heart and should be pondered carefully. Following the Buddhist scriptures, I take the character for “world” (shi) as standing for “body” (shen): carefully inspect the rise and fall of qi within your own body and do not stray onto a crooked path. Lu Zu (Lu Dongbin) said: The Great Dao first teaches people to stop thoughts; if thoughts do not stop, cultivation is in vain. He also said: Do not fear thoughts arising—fear only noticing them too late. Qingyunzi said: While a thought has not yet left the qiangzi (the region of the heart in the chest), removing it is easy; once you let it out, removing it is somewhat harder. So the ancients said: As soon as a thought arises, remove it at once—the immortals will grant you their promise. Dalian, remember this.

Da Lan asked with a smile: “The secret of cultivating immortality—at the start, I fear one may awaken too late.” Qingyunzi said: “When a thought has not yet left the chest cavity (within the heart), removing it is easy; once you let it run outward, removing it becomes harder. So the ancients said: the moment a thought arises, cut it off at once—then perhaps you may become an immortal.” Da Lan took these words to heart.

Da Lan asked again with a smile: “Does the secret of cultivating immortality stop here? I have heard that ‘cultivating only life and not nature is the first great illness of practice,’ and also that ‘cultivating only nature and not life, even after myriad kalpas, the yin spirit (the yin soul not yet refined into pure yang) can hardly enter sainthood’—what does this mean?” Lan Weng sighed: “Life without nature is not effective; nature without life cannot manifest—this means one must practice dual cultivation of nature and life (xingming shuangxiu). In my view, for every measure of nature you cultivate, you preserve a measure of life. Nature and life cannot truly be split: sometimes when you lean toward cultivating nature, life is already within it; when you lean toward cultivating life, nature is already within it—like form and shadow, how could they be separated? Whoever practices the Way must first unify the mind—this is the foundation of nature work; cherish the body as one would a precious jade—this is the foundation of life work. Going further, stopping thoughts and clearing delusion is nature work; regulating the breath, holding the breath, and guiding qi to rise and fall is life work. Reflect carefully and you will see: if thoughts do not cease, breath is not regulated, and wandering thoughts are not removed, progress in gongfu will not come. Ordinary people, from regulating and holding the breath and guiding qi up and down, through to mixing and joining (the union and condensation of jing, qi, and shen)—all such work must be done in a state free of thought and worry, and must flow freely in a realm where all sounds are still and not a speck of dust remains. So I say ‘for every measure of nature you cultivate, you preserve a measure of life’—what do you think, Da Lan?” He replied: “Exactly so. You have verified it in your own body. Only, in elixir teachings it is said the body has four seas: the heart is the sea of blood, the stomach the sea of grain, the kidneys the sea of qi, the brain the sea of marrow. I do not yet fully grasp the subtleties—please instruct me.” He answered: “Well asked. The whole person is nourished and sustained by the innate pre-heaven qi (yuanqi, the vital breath of life); only the stomach as one sea must be supplemented by digesting food and drink from the outside, to make up what the body’s generative qi lacks. Everyone knows this—no need to say more.”

Nourishing-life masters explain principles by often starting with how a person grows to fullness: it all depends on the stomach as a “sea,” relying on post-heaven food and drink from outside, which after digestion and transformation replenishes what is lacking in the body’s vital qi. Everyone knows this; there is no need to say more.

When nourishing-life masters set out their doctrine, they again always begin with mingxin (quieting the mind). Why? Because the heart is the sea of blood: only when the heart is cool can blood be generated; only when the heart is still and settled does it become cool. The method of mingxin is to use a light intention to draw heart-qi back and press it against the front of the jiaji (a segment on the inner side of the spine), until you feel warm qi throughout the body gathering and protecting the area before and after, above and below, and at the center of the jianggong (where the heart resides). In this way, as warm vital qi draws near the jianggong, it naturally turns into blood and diffuses through the muscles and channels. The finest portion then descends again to the two kidneys, and that red, flowing substance becomes pure jing (essence), becoming the Tianyi qi (the innate pre-heaven essence associated with water and the kidneys).

Before mingxin, must one close the eyes? This meaning is very deep and the reasoning very fine. First, the heart’s luminous spirit issues through the aperture of the eyes. Second, within the two eyes are also hidden the liver’s hun (soul), the lungs’ po (corporeal soul), the spleen’s luminous spirit, and the jing (essence) stored in the kidneys. Third, once you mingxin and the eyes close first, the vital qi of the viscera, limbs, and inner and outer body comes on its own to the jiangque (where the heart sovereign dwells) to pay homage. Fourth, the qi that comes to pay homage need not be deliberately arranged; on its own it becomes pure blood—this subtle effect also lies in the two eyes. Fifth, pure blood can also follow its qi and spread to moisten the channels and the interstices of skin and flesh, because the two eyes are like the sun and moon suspended, shining everywhere inside and outside, above and below, near and far—as if with intention, yet as if without; as if guiding, yet not deliberately guiding. You once said “the key lies in the eyes”; from this one can trust that the ancients’ words do not deceive.

Lazy Old Man says: The kidney is the water organ. Some call it the qi sea—the place where qi gathers. It is good that you doubt this and are willing to ask.

You should know, though, that the kidney is called the water organ not because the bladder holds turbid urine, but because it is where the body’s breath-qi finally collects. What collects here is entirely post-heaven (as opposed to pre-heaven—that which forms after birth through breathing). It further splits into yin and yang: the yang part is called qi, the yin part is called fluid.

These two—qi and fluid—if they are not cooked and refined by the “solar person” in the body (the heart-spirit that shines like the sun within), will stagnate and fail to transform. The harm is considerable; the names of illnesses that arise from this are too many to count. What is the secret of this refining? In short, nothing beyond using your two eyes to lead true yang (genuine yang qi) and keep it stored at the sea bottom (the lower dantian region where kidney water resides).

Keep a single thought without mixture; let qi move freely. There is no inside or outside—you no longer feel the five viscera, six bowels, four limbs, or heaven and earth. Then only turn the gaze inward to the sea bottom and visualize a round red sun sunk within it (this is the most essential secret). If you forget, notice at once and store again; once you store, drop the effort of storing (to practice like this is excellent). Whenever it slips, noticing is storing—go on in this cycle (this is an important instruction). Then this “sea” can settle in peace and cease to breed trouble.

How lazy people are! Cultivators of the Dao are as many as hairs on an ox, yet those who attain the Dao are as rare as horns on a rabbit—why? Because they abandon this gate of the sea bottom; that is the case everywhere under heaven. If you truly aspire, follow this and hold to it. Guarding that is not steady, or steady but not lasting, brings no benefit either (take this warning to heart). Exert yourself (remember this well—a solemn charge).

Lazy Elder said: Big Lazy, you must remember this. What I have explained above only singles out the pass of cultivating the Qihai—the aperture in neidan where vital qi gathers—yet the scenes along the way are innumerable and cannot all be told. In ten thousand words or a thousand, though the classics of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism and the writings of every school fill barns to bursting, they come down to one art: governing the mind.

Big Lazy, take this to heart: when what appears is good, do not rejoice; when it is bad, do not grieve. Every scene, fair or foul, looks real but is illusion. The moment it arises, let your heart not be stirred, your thoughts not be shaken, and your practice not be blocked. What manifests is never more than two kinds—shock and delight—and the changes within often catch you unawares. Always make unmoving stillness your foundation, and know that these are demonic phantasms—visions that disturb the mind—or tests sent by lofty immortals (high perfected beings). Only when demons cannot move you do you show the true countenance of a resolute practitioner. Whenever demonic trouble comes, hold firm all the more and press forward boldly.

Big Lazy, I raise my voice because the crooked and the straight cannot stand together, yet demons and the Dao often share the same ground. Why? Without demons the Dao would not show itself; meet demons and do not retreat, and only then is the Dao fulfilled. Big Lazy, strive and put this into practice.

Lazy Old Man (Lan Weng)—an honorific name of a Daoist cultivator—said: The brain is called the Sea of Marrow (sui hai); in classical medicine the brain was regarded as where marrow gathers. The point is plain enough and need not be belabored. Yet this “sea” has been given countless roles in popular teaching, and most of those methods belong to the formulas of earthly immortals and ghost immortals—the two grades of attainment below the Heavenly Immortal (Tianxian). They are not the supreme Dao and must not be followed. What you aspire to and what I practice is the lineage of the Heavenly Immortal: cultivation takes pure return to the pre-heaven as its completion, so what you refine cannot be chosen carelessly.

“Great Lazy One” (a form of address in the text)—you must grasp what the Heavenly Immortal path ultimately aims at, and how thick and subtle pre-heaven primordial Qi is. Its substance is utterly clear and soft, yet also utterly hard and sharp; neither gold nor iron can block it. Where it passes, things are transformed away; what remains is the wondrous. It can expand to pervade the heavens, or shrink to enter the finest mote of dust. Released, it can enfold worlds as countless as three thousand great thousand-world systems and the sands of the Ganges (Buddhist imagery for innumerable worlds); in transformation it can condense into billions upon billions of people, mountains and waters, palaces, halls, and temple complexes (daoguan). Realms of this kind are not hard to obtain—the danger is fixation in the heart-mind. Why? When a thought stirs, visions multiply without end and grow stranger and stranger. Once you attach to appearances (zhuo xiang)—treating illusions as real and clinging to them—you enter the demonic path: at the mild end you become a demon; at the severe end you die at once. Many cultivators have died from this. Not only do they themselves not know what happened; relatives and fellow practitioners may believe the person has truly attained the Dao and departed—misleading others to no small degree. For this reason, traditions of the Heavenly Immortal never take such things as proof of success; they are all treated as demonic disturbance (mo rao). If such a state appears in seated meditation, you must not deliberately use intent to drive it away; the moment you apply intent to repel, the scene turns into one of struggle, with all sorts of unpredictable forms pressing and harassing you, which can lead to madness and death—or even being seized by demons and dying that way.

Some practitioners fall straight into demonic snares. They imagine they have already “won,” and from then on their psychic powers and spiritual capacities swell without further training. Dull to what is really happening, they take this as clear proof of enlightenment, not knowing they have been led into a trap. When their allotted life ends, they become nothing more than attendants of the asuras— beings driven by strife and combat. Others, when they cannot prevail in such contests, have their entire spirit leave the physical body; the shell is then taken over by a demon. Outsiders have no way to tell: they assume the person has achieved the Dao and, when they test his powers, find them no different from those of immortals of old. The demon in the body promotes a demonic path, and followers gather like clouds. Look closely at their teaching: they claim that lust, anger, greed, and deceit do not obstruct the true Way—and everyone who follows is drawn into the demonic realm and becomes part of a demon’s retinue. Many leaders of heterodox movements such as certain “White Lotus”–style cults, historically, went astray in cultivation until a demon occupied their body and a sect of that kind took shape. This is something cultivators must understand. Therefore those on the Way should always treat “see as if not seeing, hear as if not hearing” as the great secret for subduing demons—what is meant by “however high the waves, I do not launch the boat.” That is the essential method of not giving rise to thoughts and intentions. Anyone who refines the sea of marrow (traditionally the brain as the “sea of marrow,” the locus of this practice) must take this deeply to heart.

When qi gathers, it takes form; when it scatters, it becomes refined primordial Qi (the subtle original vitality). It merges with the Three Pure Ones (Sanqing, the supreme triad of Daoist divinity) until self and other are not two, and unifies the Three Teachings (Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism) into one. This means: simply maintain your own empty, unattached single thought, and allow the outer world to be or not be, green, yellow, red, or white—nothing more. Students must not fixate on gathering and dispersing, blending, or colors and shapes. This is the ultimate attainment of the heavenly immortal (the highest class of transcendent), and the subtle function of innate primordial Qi (the cosmos’s original breath). If we hold the right aspiration, we can reach it ourselves; this is not empty talk—our resolve should be exactly that. An ancient immortal said: “To study immortality, you must study the way of the heavenly immortal; only the Golden Elixir (internal alchemy) is truly authentic.” So one’s aspiration cannot fail to be set firmly. What is the secret of refining this sea of marrow? Extend upward to unite with Heaven, and also extend downward. If we have the will, we can arrive there ourselves; this is not illusion—our aspiration should be just so.

Ancient immortals said: To study immortality one should aim to become a celestial immortal in heaven—a heavenly immortal—and only the Golden Elixir (the core of internal alchemy) is the most reliable path, so one’s resolve must be firmly set by oneself. What is the secret of refining this marrow sea (the brain as the gathering place of essence)? In intention, connect with heaven and penetrate downward to the earthly realm; in the eight directions there is no boundary, the scene is clear and still, with no mountains, rivers, or cities visible—only a expanse of crimson light like a golden world and a bright full moon hanging in the sky. That is the essential secret for entering the practice. Whenever visions appear—jade terraces, jade chambers, the Ten Continents and Three Isles, and other such legendary immortal realms—do not look at them. That is the secret of upper De and wuwei (non-action): though things manifest, one does not cling to their existence. Iron enclosures, Avīci hell, mountains of blades, forests of swords, seas of fire and boiling pools—all such hellish scenes—do not examine them either. That is the secret of not seeking through deliberate observation. Simply maintain a single mind of non-attachment, free of stirring thoughts—that is the key to governing the pass of the marrow sea.

As for the pass of the grain sea (where the spleen and stomach receive food and drink), the method of refinement is only to rub the abdomen with the hands, assisting one’s own yang qi so that food is digested and transformed. Hence the ancients, after each meal, first used one hand to massage from the middle epigastrium (zhongwan, the upper central abdomen) down to the belly, slowly walking about a hundred steps; then placed the hand on the abdomen and circled outward from within like polishing a mirror, about three hundred steps; when the left hand tired they switched to the right, then quietly observed the qi until it flowed smoothly and settled before stopping. Afterward, when free to sit, they continued with the method of quieting the mind, closing the eyes, and storing the spirit in the crimson palace (the heart region)—so that the grain qi of the middle palace could turn into blood and reach the kidneys. Those who also practice this will never suffer from fluids turning into phlegm, nor need they worry about fluids turning into yin essence (reproductive essence). It looks like deliberate effort, yet in fact it assists wuwei—that is, lower De and purposeful action, a method whose effect continues without ceasing.

Dalian (the disciple) remembered: Yes—receive the teaching with respect.

Do not neglect it because the method seems small; this is precisely my master’s secret way of regulating yin essence in advance, and in practice it is extremely simple.

Dalian rose, bowed with folded hands, and said: Yes! I accept the instruction respectfully.

Before long, Dalan straightened his robes and cap and spoke with sincere earnestness: “I have heard that if the xuan guan (key pass—the crucial aperture in Neidan where vital qi converges and practice truly begins) cannot be opened, the Holy Embryo (the internal elixir embryo condensed from jing, qi, and shen) cannot form; if nourishing like suckling (warming and feeding the Holy Embryo as one would an infant) is done wrongly, the Holy Infant (the infant image within once the Holy Embryo has matured) will fall ill inside the body; and if shedding the shell and ascending in transformation (the breakthrough of leaving the mortal husk and migrating to a higher state) does not accord with the true Way, even a True Person (one who has attained the Dao) may die midway. I am afraid because of this and beg for instruction. For someone like me, can the xuan guan hope to be opened? Can the Holy Embryo hope to be formed?”

When Lazy Old Man heard this, he smiled with pleasure and said: You are mistaken— is this not exactly about yourself? The night before, your Mysterious Pass (xuanguan, a pivotal gate in Neidan) had already opened fully. What you describe as the phenomena of the lower stage are precisely the clear signs that follow once that gate has been switched open. As for whether the sacred embryo (shengtai) has formed, you must examine yourself: Is the whole body unobstructed? Is there a murky, pervading quality to the Qi (yin’yun)? Can you reach the state in which both things and self are forgotten? (These are the most essential aspects of the work; only diligent cultivation can attain them.) The reply was: I have experienced all of that, but only at times. (It would be better if it were constant.) He asked again: Have you reached the state in which the ten thousand sounds are all empty and a single spirit alone stands revealed? The reply: I have tried to reach it, but I regret that I cannot sustain it. (If you could sustain it, you would be close to forming the embryo.) He asked again: What signs do you find in your Kun abdomen (the lower belly where the lower Dantian lies)? The reply: Whenever I sit in meditation, I feel threads of pre-heaven true Qi (zhenqi) descending from the heart; before long the inside of the body seems suddenly to open wide— as vast as when there is nothing outside, as fine as when there is nothing inside— and every kind of true Qi murkily pours inward; that place seems bottomless, and I only feel a gentle warmth; as if there were fire and yet as if there were none, a kind of warm Qi rises slowly and lightly from below, surging upward all around; I only feel it going straight up the back, thick and full, reaching the back and the crown; then I feel a scorching heat flowing downward until it reaches the throat; just as it arrives at the Crimson Palace (jiangque, the heart region), it suddenly turns into cool liquid dripping down; after it passes the barrier of the heart (xinkan), it suddenly rushes like hot water; the belly is afire and the whole body feels quite unobstructed. Lazy Old Man said: If it is truly like this, you are not far from forming the embryo.

The Lazy Elder said again to Great Lazy: You must understand that when a celestial immortal (tianxian) forms the embryo, it is not as popular stories describe. You should read and ponder carefully the “Essay on Clarifying Doubts in Cultivating Immortality” (Xiuxian Bianhuo Lun)—how to refine, how to form the embryo, how to gather (caiqu), how to regulate the fire phases (huohou), how to guard against leakage (difang), how to nurture (wenyang), how to perform the bathing stage (muyu), how to apply the work, how to subdue, and how to move the spirit and change the cauldron (yishen huanding) until the body emerges from the shell (tuotai)—all of this is covered in that essay. The most essential secret is: within thought, do not give rise to thought; guard quietly as a hen brooding on eggs. Sitting upright in fixed meditation is gathering; work that comes and goes without clinging to rigid fixation is guarding against leakage; walking, stopping, sitting, and lying down are the fire phases.

He also said: If you cultivate diligently yet for a time do not meet an enlightened master, you will surely eventually meet a true person (zhiren); if you meet one but do not cultivate diligently, in the end you remain a low ghost (xia gui). These four lines you should use for constant self-examination.

Great Lazy asked: Besides the “Essay on Clarifying Doubts in Cultivating Immortality,” what books should one read? The answer: “Questions on the Way from Crane Grove” (Helin Wendao Pian), “Treatise on Revealing the Secrets of the Mysterious Pass” (Xuanguan Xianmi Lun), and “Discourse on Nature and Life” (Xingming Shuo); beyond those are “Essential Aim of the Golden Flower” (Jinhua Zongzhi), “Union of Immortals and Buddhas” (Xianfo Hezong), “Correct Principles of Celestial Immortals” (Tianxian Zhengli), and “Burning the Rhinoceros” (Ranxi Pian); going further back are the “Unity of the Three” (Cantong Qi) and “Awakening to Reality” (Wuzhen Pian); when understanding is fused to the utmost, one arrives at Patriarch White Jade’s (Bai Yuxian) commentary on the “Dao De Jing” (Daode Jing), along with the “Diamond Sutra,” “Surangama Sutra,” “Complete Enlightenment Sutra,” and the like. Alas! Patriarch White said: A single phrase or half a sentence can penetrate the profound principle—why need millions of pages of elixir scriptures? If a person is not dragged down by the physical form, before one’s eyes is the Great Canopy Heaven (Daluo Tian)!

“Commentary on the Rain-Fragrance Heaven Scripture Spells” (Yuxiang Tian Jing Zhou Zhu), compiled by Min Yide of Jingai Mountain, Wuxing. Preface.

All sounds arise from the human heart-mind. Thus Yangzi said: speech is the voice the heart sends forth; painting is the image the heart draws. Human hearts are fundamentally alike, yet temperament differs by north and south, east and west, by softness and hardness, strength and weakness. Temperament follows local soil and water; when it expresses itself as sound, there arise differences of throat, tongue, lips, and teeth, and of pitch and weight. Not only do people of the same age change with region—from antiquity to the present, original pronunciations have also been corrupted and altered with the times. Hence ancient rhyme often fails to match modern rhyme. The scripts of foreign lands were never the same to begin with; Chinese characters too have changed repeatedly. Where custom leads, they can hardly be made fully equivalent.

Yet traced to the source, all of this springs from what is shared in the human heart: when hearts connect, voices connect. To hear a chime and feel sorrow, to hear a zither and feel austerity—this is the heart connecting through sound. I have wandered in many places; even when languages did not match, in moments of quiet stillness I would sometimes hear human speech and often grasp the meaning; once the mind stirred and I listened with deliberate attention, I no longer understood. Because one is bound by innate temperament, as soon as one clings to form, connection is lost.

The scriptures and incantations recorded in the Daoist Canon include the Shangqing Fulu (ritual registers of the Shangqing lineage)—not writing of the human world below, yet their sounds connect with the hearts of people below. The Heguanzi says: only the sage can rectify his tone and harmonize his voice, so that De may ascend to Grand Clarity (Taiqing). Grand Clarity is Heaven: it means that the subtle voices of the human realm can reach upward to Heaven. The scriptures and incantations in the Neidian (Buddhist canon) are largely in Sanskrit from the Western Regions, not the script of the Eastern Land, yet their sounds connect with the hearts of people in the East. The Spring and Autumn of the Sixteen States records that Kumarajiva and Fotudeng could render them into Chinese speech, because the Huayan alphabet in truth connects with China. I have studied scriptures and incantations for many years and often gain silent insight in deepest stillness; there are also places blocked and hard to penetrate, where seeking brings no resolution.

For many years, whenever I entered the deepest stillness in meditation, I would silently gain some understanding. Whenever I hit passages that were obscure and impenetrable and could find no explanation, I would suddenly hear a voice say: “Where there is no established pronunciation, follow the meaning; where pronunciation exists, align with its sound.” I was to reveal these insights and spread them abroad, and not fail the intent of the gods and buddhas who open a window for the people. I therefore rejoiced, analyzed what I had grasped, and added annotations—yet I still did not dare to trust myself fully.

For annotations to mantras and scriptures in Daoist books, I submitted them first to my late master, Elder Taixu, for approval; he judged that they did not stray from the subtle original meaning (xuanjie). Annotations to Sanskrit mantras in Buddhist texts were reviewed by Perfected Huang of Jizu (the adept on Mount Jizu in Yunnan; zhenren is the Daoist honorific for one who has attained the Way). Perfected Huang was originally from Yuezhi in the western regions. Privately I was glad that these notes had such backing, hoping thereby to escape the charge of forced or fanciful reading.

Some may feel that mantras and scriptures already have many commentaries by past worthies, so why add more words. I hold that the sacred classics hold inexhaustible depth; each may explore them, and the benevolent and the wise each see their own aspect. Just as the Five Classics are taught in the official curriculum and standard commentaries exist, Confucian exegesis still draws out fresh meanings—and commentaries on the Book of Changes are especially numerous. The purport of scripture is like sun and moon crossing the sky: to see the whole is valid, and to see a glint through a crack is valid too. Even a tube-view or a dipper-measure of insight may be offered; scholars everywhere may state their own readings, and by right there should be new light—not something forbidden by authority.

Only my learning is shallow; I dare not block others’ insight with a partial understanding. If someone, building on my modest words, goes further and finds a deeper accord, so that the subtle teaching shines clear, awakening the great thousand worlds, broadly proclaiming the heart-seal (the teaching passed mind to mind), and jointly realizing bodhi (awakening)—thereby benefiting all sentient beings—that would be my deepest wish.

Min Yide, Hermit of Jingai Mountain, Wuxing. This piece is a preface.

I carefully consider that Daoism has its hidden and manifest aspects, and Buddhism its exoteric and esoteric ones; both were established to match transmission by word with reception in the heart. Each must be grasped with care, without clinging to fixed views, lest they cloud the eye that views the Dao. What the ancient sages urgently warned against was nothing other than falling empty into the snare of words and language.

At first I did not understand this. I annotated deep Daoist classics such as the Dadong Yujing (a major Shangqing scripture), with mantras like the “Zhihui Zhenyan”; toward the esoteric Buddhist corpus I did not dare speak much, because it was not in Chinese and could not be guessed at. At that time I was staying at Lianhua Hermitage in Gusu (present-day Suzhou). Disciples Huan and Xinyang asked me to comment on the Dabei Zhou (Great Compassion Heart Dharani of Avalokiteshvara). I said, “I am Chinese—how would I know Sanskrit from the West?” Before I finished, a stern voice came from the air: “Wrong. The Buddha originally taught in a way that could connect with Chinese. To trace the meaning of characters, one must distinguish those with the ‘mouth’ radical from those without. These Sanskrit phrases have sound but no written form; what compassionate teachers received and wrote down came from those who could guide others. When they understood and wrote, if pronunciation matched but meaning differed, they added the mouth radical to mark the distinction. If you grasp the Buddha’s meaning and infer consistently from this, you can naturally annotate.”

I then took the text and worked through it. I learned that “nang mo” is “namo” (homage, reverence), “he luo” is “he luo”; “da” points to intrinsic nature like the sun, “na” is “that/other,” a deictic tone, and “luo” is a particle. That line means: when thought is empty, intrinsic nature appears, bright and majestic like the sun’s power—it teaches practitioners to take mingxin jianxing (illuminating the mind and seeing one’s nature) as the root, so what follows all expounds the meaning of “da.”

The ancient worthies of the West paired one phrase with one Buddha-name to teach later students in the West to follow the line’s meaning and imitate the practice—a compassionate intent. To teach Chinese people, one need only understand through mingxin jianxing; there is no need to verify every phrase with a Buddha-name. This appears in the Yunmen Yulu (Record of Yunmen), which treats it as suifang shejiao (teaching adapted to each region). To insist on this and deny that, or on that and deny this, loses all-round integration and is not the way of a shanshi (knowledgeable guide).

When the Buddha spoke this dharani, the master used it to teach later generations precisely to cut off falling into discriminating consciousness and to start from empty thought and a pure mind. How can we fail to notice this yet argue among ourselves? Even the explanation here is only “the benevolent see benevolence, the wise see wisdom”—how could it exhaust the dharani’s depth? It cannot. These few lines are placed at the front merely for my own amusement; I dare not call them a preface.

Recorded on the first day of the fourth month of the Daoguang Jiawu year (1834), by the monk Jilian of West Lake, who had left home.

The main text of the Yuxiang Tianjing (Heavenly Scripture of Rain Fragrance) clarifies the literary forms of the various textual traditions.

According to investigation, this scripture was orally transmitted by the Jade Pure Divine Mother (a Daoist deity) to the Primordial King of the Law, then passed down through successive sages and perfected ones before it took written form; at first, however, there were no continuous sentences suitable for recitation. Later generations differed in how they transmitted the teaching and in what they selected from it, and so ritual versions appeared in four-character, three-character, five-character, and seven-character lines. Each was the work of a lineage master establishing his own school, meant to display its subtle efficacy.

Examination of the earliest ancient transmission shows only characters arranged chapter by chapter, entirely in cloud seal script (Daoist celestial writing), like scattered pearls gathered in one casket. Patriarch Xu of Jingyang (Xu Xun), finding it hard to memorize, received a descent of Mother Chen, who orally transmitted its extraordinary meaning; only then did Patriarch Xu rewrite it in ordinary regular script, compiled it into four-character stanzas, and inserted each regular character into the “play” of the seal forms so it could circulate, naming it the Yuzhang Jing (Jade Seal Scripture).

The five-character ancient version, though said to descend from the Spring and Autumn period, in fact comes from the Song dynasty court attendant Lin Lingsu, a perfected one. The five-character Su version some call the Yuzhang Jing; others attribute it to Li Huanyang, or to Lord Zitong, or to Xu Yuanyou. The three-character version came from the west and was compiled by the great adept of the Bo people. The seven-character version was compiled by Gong Wushang of Luoyang and in the Southern Song was transmitted to Liu Cao, who had served as chancellor of Liao.

Here we first examine the earliest ancient transmission: originally there was no syntactic pattern; characters were simply set one by one at the ends of bamboo slips, preserving the appearance of the text when writing first took shape. This writing was regarded as the hidden taboo names of the heavens (secret designations of the celestial realm); Yide (the author Min Yide) dares not impose private views or attach commentary. He only distinguishes first how the various transmitted versions differ in usage, noting beneath each character where the graphs diverge, so those who uphold the scripture may trust the present text without losing sight of the ancient transmission.

The above clarifies the sources of compilation and circulation of the various versions of this scripture.

In the four-character-line recension, every graph built on the element wan (play) receives the rain radical on top while still taking wan as its side component. Jade seal script (yu zhuan, a form of Daoist secret seal writing) is always set inside the single hook stroke yi. Because the antique text is cloud script (yun zhuan, the celestial writing said to be formed from cloud patterns), everything else follows the same rule. Graphs with wan on the left follow the sense of the Jade Script of the Primordial Beginning (Yuanshi yu wen, the jade celestial characters of Yuanshi Tianzun), as handed down by Perfected Lord Xu (Xu Zhenjun, Xu Xun). The present lineage’s Medicine-for-the-World Esoteric Rites (yishi xuan ke, the ritual corpus for healing the age) employ it in exactly this way.

In the three-character-line recension, each character is augmented with gan, in the sense of the spirit lord who overcomes (gan jun), as transmitted by the great adept Bo-yi.

In the old five-character recension, each character is augmented with wan, because the line comes from Wang Wu.

In the Su five-character recension, each character was originally augmented with wan, the same side element as in the four-character book; it has now been changed so that each character is augmented with yuan, following the brush-and-register liturgy manual (bi lu ke ben). That version is said to come from the Daoist Lord of the Primordial Sovereign (Yuanhuang daojun). The earlier use of wan may also reflect reception from the Dharma King of the Primordial Beginning (Yuanshi fa wang, a honorific of Yuanshi Tianzun).

The seven-character recension transmits only the original graphs as received: no extra strokes above and no inlay on the left. It comes from Gong Wushang (a transmitter’s title).

Separately, in the prayer section of ritual practice, there is a method involving ni (rainbow): first luo is placed inside the yi stroke of the character er (child); the remaining graphs are filled in order along the text. When the filling is complete, it is covered with golden writing and daubed into a round patch of cinnabar ink for use as legal talisman script (fa zhuan). The upper, middle, and lower “gall” positions (shang dan, zhong dan, xia dan—the three fixed zones on a talisman) each have their prescribed forms and must not be altered from private whim. The lines themselves may be in three-, four-, five-, or seven-character form.

All recensions are annotated here except the prayer liturgy manual, which is left without commentary because it borders on ritual secrecy (fa mi), the liturgical wording is cumbersome, and annotation would never end. The Medicine-for-the-World Esoteric Rites touch even the Dao itself; to annotate them would risk reducing them to mere verbal explanation, so they are not annotated.

The scripture as it was first transmitted was originally written in yunzhuan (the cloud-vapor seal script used in Daoism). When one examines the version written by the Tang calligrapher Liu Gongquan, it had already been changed to regular script (kaishu). The present text follows his practice throughout and uses regular script uniformly.

What follows is textual verification. In the various editions, when material was added or applied in ritual use, characters in the scripture were occasionally altered. Below these characters are listed in the order of the scripture; parenthetical notes give readings or variant readings in other editions. “Wuyan,” “siyan,” “sanyan,” and “qiyan” refer to editions whose lines have five, four, three, or seven characters respectively; “Su edition” is the Su family edition, and “ancient edition” is the old text. “Yishi ke” and “Yishi xuan ke” are the texts used in the Yishi (Salvation of the World) liturgy; “qidao ke” is the text used in the supplication and exorcism liturgy. Entries that list only a single character without further comment mean that all editions agree on that character and all write it in regular script.

“Luo”: all editions have “luo.” “San”: in the five-character Su edition it appears as “can.” Lan, bo, dai, qia, tai. “Li”: read as “lu.” Tang. “Yun”: in the five-character Su edition it appears as “hui.” Tui, ru. “Lian”: in the five-character ancient edition it appears as “lian” (lotus). Guang, ling, du, yu, luo, shu. “Miao”: read as “mu”; in the five-character Su edition it appears as “mai.” Yu, fu, chao, san, zhao, sheng. “Tian”: the four-character edition also has “tian.” Heng, zhi. “Shi”: in the three-character edition and the five-character Su edition it appears as “dai.” Qian. “Ting”: in the five-character Su edition it appears as “ting” (court). Pan, bao. “Ji”: read as “ji.” You, xuan. “Wo”: in the three-character and five-character editions it appears as “wo” (canopy); in the seven-character edition as “wo” (moist). “Cheng”: in the five-character Su edition it appears as “kuai.” Sha, fu, yan, ming, gui, hui, he, zi, cun. “Le”: read as “luo”; in the five-character Su edition it appears as “lai.” Xian. “Le” (restrain): in the qidao ke some write it as “qin” (diligence). Bai. “Fen”: in the qidao ke some write it as “ban.” Tian. “Hou”: some write it as “gou”; in the qidao ke some also write it as “hou” (after). Tu, cheng. “Yuan”: in the five-character ancient edition it appears as “tan.” “Ping”: in the five-character Su edition it appears as “bai” (defeat). Mi, jie. “Zhang”: in the five-character Su edition, seven-character edition, four-character edition, and Yishi ke edition it is “zhang”; in the remaining editions some have “zhang” (barrier). Sheng. The second “zhang”: in the five-character Su edition it appears as “zhang” (a kind of deer); in the four-character and Yishi xuan ke editions it is “zhang”; in the remaining editions some have “zhang” (camphor). Jie, lu, miao. “Lai”: in the four-character and Yishi xuan ke editions it is “lai”; in the five-character ancient and seven-character editions it is “lan”; in the three-character ancient and five-character Su editions it is “lan” (railing). “Meng”: in the five-character Su edition it appears as “xie” (slack); all others have “meng”; in the qidao ke some have “meng” (dim). “Long”: in the three-character and five-character editions it appears as “long” (hazy). Deng, ning, xie. “Quan”: in the five-character Su edition it appears as “quan” (whole); in the qidao ke some have “quan” (sedge). “Xin”: in the three-character edition read as “shen”; in the qidao ke some have “xin” (snarl). Di. “Ni” (a character used in Daoist talismans to suppress evil): read as “ni.” Tuo. “Ai”: in the five-character Su edition it appears as “ai” (obstruct). “Nang”: in the three-character, seven-character, and Yishi ke editions it appears as “nan” (south). “Mo”: in the three-character, four-character, five-character ancient, and five-character Su editions it is “mo”; in the Yishi xuan ke it is “wu” (without). “Jue”: in the five-character Su edition it appears as “yu” (jade). Fa, cheng, jin, you, yan, ri. “Yue”: in the five-character Su edition it appears as “zai” (at). Xing, dou. “Yao”: in the qidao ke some have “yao” (shine). Xi. “Ming”: in the four-character, Yishi xuan ke, and seven-character editions it is “ming”; in the three-character edition it is “gai” (cover); in the qidao ke it is “san” (umbrella). “Qi” (the character Daoism uses for innate primordial qi): in the qidao ke it is written as “qi” (breath).

This still concerns verifying the earliest circulated scripture text, used to distinguish textual differences among various editions.

According to the ancient edition with four characters per phrase, what follows continues with “fang yuan de qiu, shou zhen gu ling, shou tian di jing.” These three phrases of twelve characters were added by the lineage master (the revered master who transmits the dharma). Some recite only the first phrase, some only the second, some only the last; others take the first two phrases, the first and last, the second and last, or all three. Though the selections differ, together they are called the True Words of One Hundred Characters of the Supreme Mystery Jade Scripture (Taixuan Yujing Baizi Zhenyan). Below the scripture text comes again “I, your subject, now chant and recite; may it be thus”—this is a prayer text (words of aspiration when chanting scripture), used to round off the scriptural meaning. The above is the concluding scriptural text as analyzed for the four-character-per-phrase ancient edition.

According to the ancient edition with three characters per phrase, what follows continues with “shou zhen gu, tian di zhong, xuan ni zhuo, mie xie jing, fang yuan de, qiu ling jing.” These six phrases of eighteen characters were added by the venerable master; they are also called scripture text and must be recited in full. Below that come the two prayer phrases “green jar domain, another spring apart,” and the three decree phrases (dharani-style words of command) “Om hum hum, hum hum da, svaha.” The five phrases of prayer and decree were transmitted by the great earth lords of the Bo and Yi (as preserved in the southwest Bo–Yi tradition) and are used to seal the scriptural meaning. The above is the concluding scriptural text as analyzed for the three-character-per-phrase ancient edition.

According to the reading method of the ancient five-character-line version, the character Qi—the pre-heaven vital energy in Daoist teaching—must be carried down from the preceding passage and joined to what follows so that complete sentences are formed. The scripture lines are: “Qi guards the mound of primal virtue; Qi longevity, steadfast and numinous; Qi longevity, the crystal of heaven and earth.” These three lines were composed in continuation by the lineage master (the founding patriarch who transmitted the teaching in this school); they too are called scripture passages and must be recited in full. What comes next is again: “I now uphold the teaching; rescue and deliver all departed souls; may I rely on the power of this precious scripture; may my vows be fulfilled.” These four lines are dedication formulas, likewise transmitted by the lineage master, and they too must be recited in full. The same four dedication lines appear once more below—“I now uphold the teaching; rescue and deliver all departed souls; may I rely on the power of this precious scripture; may my vows be fulfilled”—as formulas handed down by the lineage master to bring the whole scripture to its close. “Rescue and deliver all departed souls” means to save and deliver the souls of the deceased; “precious scripture” (yujing) is an honorific title for this valued text.

This version, moreover, was originally a transmitted copy of the salvation-through-refinement liturgy (the rite for delivering and refining the souls of the dead). In the past some also treated it as the standard text for the brush-and-register talisman liturgy. The only change was to delete the six closing scripture lines such as “Qi longevity, steadfast spirit,” and to append instead three lines: “In the line of the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors, the Five Classics and Four Books, Confucius and Mencius teach all without distinction”—roughly that. Those three lines present the transmission as descending from the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors and link it to the Confucian Five Classics, Four Books, and the teaching of Confucius and Mencius. Yet when this liturgical text is examined, Lin Lingsu (the Northern Song Daoist master) said it was transmitted from Master Lu. On investigation, this deity Master Lu does not bear the title “patriarch master of brush-and-register talismanry”; and even in the liturgy Lin Lingsu compiled with his own hand, not a single phrase touches on that matter.